


Red Letter Days

by Ihopeitsbenign



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Canon, Angst, Break Up, Depression, Drama & Romance, M/M, minor infidelity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-25
Updated: 2014-01-25
Packaged: 2018-01-09 23:39:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 67,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1152197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ihopeitsbenign/pseuds/Ihopeitsbenign
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine moves to New York and sets up house with the remaining three seniors, Tina, Sam and Artie. Will his feelings for one of them derail the plans he has to marry Kurt? A coming of age fic!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I have no affiliation to Glee or its characters. This is fiction pure and simple.

"That is all of it." Blaine announced as he concluded the tour in the spacious living room. "What do you think? I mean I wanted you to be able to come and go without needing any help. I mean we – I - would be happy to help you anytime. It's not a problem at all." He fumbled. Artie's disability was a tricky thing to bring up for Blaine. He had never had to deal with anybody that wasn't fully able and he was scared to say the wrong thing. He never wanted to make his friend feel disabled.

Artie spun the chair with ease facing him with suspiciously bright eyes. "Thank you. I was terrified of student housing but…" He swallowed audibly. "With all you guys here, it is kind of like I'm still at home but  _not_. I feel safe, you know."

"Cool. I didn't want to offend you by implying you couldn't take care of yourself."

"Offend? Are you kidding me? Look at this place. Your parents are the best." He spun in his seat checking out the brightly lit apartment. The four bedrooms, two and a half baths in Hamilton Heights was excessive for anyone let alone four students from Ohio. No wonder Artie still seemed a little shell-shocked.

"Well, they are only paying half of the rent and utilities. We have to split the remaining half between the four of us." Blaine repeated this information exactly the way that he'd heard it from his humorless dad. Even as his parents were both lecturing him on his life choices like they were wont to do, it was obvious that the monetary laxity was simply a payoff for him not getting married at age eighteen. Hence his mom's 'sow your wild oats' speech right before he left for New York. Parents god, what did they know about true love. His parents barely spoke to each other as it were.

Even preoccupied with his own family drama, Blaine could hear Tina and Sam's whoops grow in volume until they burst into the open space, identical grins plastered on their faces.

"Dude!" Sam screamed. " _This_  – This is awesome."

"Oh my god, Blaine, please thank your parents for us again." Tina interjected. "This is the first time deferring a year at Vet school has felt totally right."

Blaine nodded. Her wording made it seem like it was a mutual choice but really after their success at regionals, Tina had kind of lost it. He understood, the future was scary; Tina wasn't the only one second-guessing every choice she ever made. He was too but New York was where Kurt was, where he had to be. It helped that he'd gotten into NYADA. He needed every spare second he could find with Kurt so he could re-establish their relationship and reassure him that he was  _the one._

"I'm taking the master bedroom because I'm the girl." Tina shrieked interrupting his thoughts. Turning, Blaine watched her squaring off with Sam, the tall blond teenager towering over in a vaguely intimidating fashion.

Sam stood his ground hands on his lean hips. "Well that's convenient."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Sam crossed his arms staring her down. "You chicks are all the same. It's all about equality until you want something then it's I should get it because 'I'm the girl'." He mimicked.

Doing that twisty aggressive neck thing that Blaine would never in a million years pull off, she snarled. "Do not call me a chick." Tina's teeth clicked making a great emphasis on the  _'Ch'_  and _'i'_.

"Fine, you're a woman. Whatever." Sam tossed his hands in the air in mock surrender, "You don't get the room just because you have woman stuff under that…." He gestured in the general direction of her really short skirt.

Tina's indignant shriek drowned out the traffic on the street.

Blaine was engrossed watching their war when Artie tugged at his cuff. "They know that's your room? Right?" He asked, leading Blaine to shrug. He was paying the most via his parents so he should have the biggest room. It made sense but quite frankly he was more concerned with his two best friends fighting all day, every day for the next three years they roomed together. Boy would that get old.

Turning to Artie he gave a tentative, "Yes." Honestly he hadn't anticipated the Sam/Tina dynamic. He was best-friends with both of them and he always just assumed that they got along great when he wasn't around. Obviously he was wrong. "This is kinda weird, right?"

Giving him an indulgent smile, Artie picked at his shirt. "Well, _that's_  not weird. Weird is living with my ex-girlfriend who has feelings for the gay guy who is  _in love_  with the straight guy."

"What?" The veracity of that statement pulled at parts of Blaine he had buried months ago. There was no him and Sam, there never would be a Blaine and Sam. A strange unnatural smile pulled at his lips. It was so odd that his hand stole up to his jaw thumbing the overextended flesh. "I'm not in love with Sam." He swore giving a small laugh that he could almost believe was real even though he had to force it past the curve in his throat.

"O – kay!" Artie intoned, skeptical eyes still boring through him.

"Okay." Blaine affirmed. He didn't love Sam. It was just a thing, a crush that manifested because he was sad and lonely and away from Kurt. Sam was just his very best friend. There was nothing sexual about it. Anymore. Sure, after they'd graduated from McKinley High the thought of leaving Sam behind had freaked him out so much that he'd made his way to Kentucky and begged Sam's parents to let him stay with him. Sam hadn't gotten into any colleges and was suffering as a result. Blaine wouldn't leave him. When he met them, he'd been open about his sexuality lest that become an issue and rushed to reassure them that things weren't like that between him and their son but they hadn't cared. All they needed was for him to look out for Sam…always. He could do that, and he was doing it anyway. For his sake.

"Kurt turned down my proposal –"

"Rejected" Arte insisted.

Giving him the stink-eye, Blaine continued, "He  _turned down_  my proposal because he thinks and rightly so that we should fall in love with each other again and rebuild the trust between us before we can make a lifelong commitment."

"You cheated on him and you're in love with your best friend." Artie dismissed. "I don't think that is something you can just 'large romantic gesture away'. If that's what you're planning?"

Blaine's mind flitted to the massive bouquet he'd sent to Kurt earlier this morning but he insisted. "I am not in love with Sam." Getting in front of him, he crouched to Artie's level. The closer he was, the faster Artie would understand and believe. "I am not in love with Sam. Kurt is my soul mate. We will be together as soon as I can convince him that we are meant to be."

"Who's not in love Sam?" A strange voice asked.

Startled. Blaine rose to his feet studying the tall leggy intrusive blond that filled their doorway and appeared a little older than them. "Who are you?" He tried for inquisitive and not possessive.

"I met your roommate, Sam right? In the elevator." She smiled revealing an endearing crooked incisor. "I'm Michelle. I live a few blocks over but I was sneaking in to do my laundry when he busted me."

"Oh great! She's a felon." Blaine mumbled so only Artie could hear him.

"She's hotttt!" Artie tossed back. " _Hello New York."_

Blaine was about to respond when Sam hurried past him, a goofy welcoming smile on his face. Blaine pretended not to notice how the strange girls smile got even broader as she looked at his friend or how Sam's hand lingered on the curve of her back as he formally introduced her.

Suddenly Blaine felt like this –  _them living together -_  was a bad idea, as the eeriest feeling of foreboding crept up his throat, an unnerving certainty that everything was about to change and not necessarily for the better.


	2. Chapter 2

"You hate it." Blaine struggled to keep the disappointment out of his voice. He had spent the last two days planning this incredibly romantic dinner for them and Kurt looked barely a notch over impressed.

"No, I – " Kurt nervously licked his lip then he sighed. His fork clattered to the black ceramic plate, pinging on his overfilled wine glass. "This is just a little  _excessive_. You're overcompensating with the flowers and the fire hazard." He leaned over and blew out the flickering candles.

Looking around, Blaine appraised the dimly lit setting complete with fairy lights and rose petals on the floor. Tina had helped him decorate and even Artie had given him a reluctant thumbs-up and a forced smile. Neither of them were very invested in his relationship with Kurt but they were trying to be supportive. Wiping his brow he pulled at his collar, trying not to disturb the perfectly tied bowtie. He could admit the lights and the candles were a bit much since the heat in the large apartment had shot up about ninety degrees. "It is not that bad." He said with a nervous laugh.

"It's not – I – just- When you said to come over for dinner, I thought you meant everybody was invited but Rachel made the lamest excuse ever – washing her hair – please with those hair extensions, it's a two person job and Santana didn't even bother to pick up."

"I told them not to come." Blaine fiddled with his plate, his hands finding and rearranging his wine and water glass. "I thought we needed to spend some time together before school starts."

"We do but this –" The slim boy indicated the towering bouquets dipping too close to his hair. "This is too much. It puts too much pressure on us – on me to just say yes to you. We agreed to take things slow."

Blaine knew he was trying too hard but the guilt he felt over destroying their relationship had never really left him and the more Kurt held apart of himself back the more awkward things got between them. "How I'm I supposed to show you how I feel if I don't try to get you to trust me again?"

"Blaine, I love that you're trying. I do." Kurt said softly. "But can we just have some pizza and relax? What the hell is this?" He tilted his plate with the thick meaty slices with the dark outside and red flesh on the inside.

"It is Seared Ahi."

Making the slightest grimace, Kurt pushed his plate further away. "That's settles it, we can order some pizza and watch reruns on TV. Pick any Real Housewives." He reconsidered. "Not New Jersey. And the rest of the peanut gallery you shipped over from Lima – without as much as a heads up by the way – can come out of their rooms."

"Peanut gallery?" Blaine wondered at his virulence. "Kurt, they are your friends too."

"They are people that I knew in high school and they are a lot closer to you now than they ever were to me." He dismissed. "It's not that I don't want them here. I just think there is enough scrutiny on us as it is without adding the opinion of the entire glee club."

"I didn't know you felt that way."

"You didn't ask Blaine. How are we supposed to make it when you won't even include me in such major decisions?"

Blaine reeled under this question. Honestly it hadn't occurred to him to tell Kurt. Maybe because they'd been apart for so long that seeking his counsel was no longer automatic. There was a time he couldn't spend a day without sharing every thought he had with him but that had changed. These days he was more likely to talk to Sam. Sam was easy to talk to, he shared his opinion honestly and managed not to seem like he was judging him.

He opened his mouth to apologize. What else could he say? A jiggling at the front door caught both their attention ending the tense moment.

"Dude'" Sam popped in, eyes closed, hands outstretched in mock surrender. "I got your text and I promise I will get in and out in like two seconds."

"We're fully clothed, Sam." Kurt snapped.

One green eye opened looking them over then he relaxed. "Cool. I just forgot my wallet, need my fake ID."

_What?_  "Why?" Blaine shoved his chair back getting to his feet. "You're going out? Alone? Sam, we've been here two days I don't think you should be running around by yourself."

"I'm not alone." He flashed a grin, disappeared into the hallway and returned with his hand around a curvy blonde in a clingy red dress. "This is Chastity, we met at the newsstand at the corner. We were shooting the breeze and I explained how I desperately need a job and she offered to introduce me to her boss."

Blaine eyed this new girl, about their age, heavily made up. She was not to be mistaken for the blonde (Michelle) from two days ago, hell she wasn't even the blonde (Nadia) from this morning.  _She had a boss._ Hemused _. Her. What kind of job was after dark and needed that much cleavage?_ A random thought streaked across his brain but he shoved it aside. Sam wouldn't. "What kind of job?" He asked dreading the answer.

Chastity blinked, long lashes sweeping up and down. "I dance at a club in Hell's Kitchen. Don't worry it's a really classy place…"

_Yeah because everything about her screamed 'Classy'._

"My boss is looking to add male dancers in a different area of the club so we can open up to more discerning customers."

Blaine cut through her bullshit. "You're a stripper?"

"Exotic dancer." She twanged. Blaine had no idea they made fake lashes that long.

"Stripper." He muttered under his breath. He could hear Kurt behind him suppressing giggles at the absurdity of the situation and felt himself get irrationally mad at him. Turning to his best friend he gestured in the general direction of Sam's bedroom. "Can I talk to you?"

Resisting the urge to slam the door behind him, he leaned back against closed door and watched Sam rifle through his bags hunting down the elusive ID. "What are you doing?" He asked slowly. No judgment. Yet.

The shaggy blonde head reappeared from under the bed. "What do you mean?"

Blaine took several breaths before he spoke. "Are you going back to stripping? Really?"  _Please say no._

"I'm thinking about it."

"Why?" Blaine shot across the room. "Sam, you are better than this. I'm not going to let you flaunt your body just so you can make a little money."

For a moment, he watched Sam's shoulders tense then droop He ached to turn him round and read the truth on his face but the oak dresser was in the way. "I need a job." Sam said as he turned from him ripping a pair of jeans from the floor and searching their deep pockets. He emerged with a battered brown wallet. Facing Blaine he shrugged. "Even with your parents paying half of everything, it's still a lot of money. I need to pay my share of the rent."

No. He didn't. Blaine could cover for him. Quite frankly he'd assumed that he'd be paying the way for both of them anyway. "I can…"

"No" Sam interrupted his offer. "No. I'm not going to let you take care of me, Blaine. I can look out for myself. Okay? I already owe you enough from the plane ticket."

Crossing his arms, Blaine shook. "But why can't you do something else?" Desperation drove every word. "Anything else." He dropped his voice as he realized how loud he'd gotten. Luckily he could still hear the laugh track come through from Tina's room; he didn't want to disrupt her and Artie's night.

"Like what?" He tossed back. Before Blaine could verbalize a retaliation, Sam continued. "Just – finish your date with Kurt. We can talk in the morning."

Blaine let him leave. He couldn't allow this to happen. The thought of all those people ogling Sam's body turned his stomach. There had to be something else Sam could do. Blaine was starting at NYADA in a couple of days, Artie had school as well. Tina hadn't figured out what to do yet and she didn't seem to be in a hurry to do so. Still in deep thought he wandered back to the living room finding Kurt clearing the dining room table.

"Is everything okay?"

"Um" Blaine tried to shift gears back to their date. It was next to impossible. Sam may have left but he was still on his mind. "He wants to start stripping again."

"Sam?"

"Yeah"

"Oh" He uttered. Nimble fingers stowing away unused napkins.

"What do you mean? Oh!"

"I mean he used to strip before to make money. He needs money now so he is doing what he knows. It makes a linear kind of sense hence the 'oh'."

Rounding on him, Blaine almost dropped the cutlery he was automatically gathering up. "I can't believe you of all people are condoning this." He expected his boyfriend to be as outraged as he was.

"Blaine," Kurt huffed passing him a laden plate. "I'm not saying I support his decision to strip but what else is he going to do? He has a high school diploma and no marketable skills. You yanked him out of Ohio and dropped him in New York with no thought or plan. Why am I even arguing with you? You couldn't possibly understand what it is like?"

Hackles rising, Blaine scraped the remaining food into the sink "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that this is an expensive city, not all of us have loaded parents. We have to figure out how to get by. Sam knows that. His stripping is not ideal but it's a smart choice." His eyes bored in Blaine's. "The real question is why is it bothering you so much?"

Ducking, Blaine mumbled. "He is my friend. I promised his parents I would look out for him."


	3. Chapter 3

Emerging from the large clattered room, Sam's fingers caught on the shiny handle as he pulled the door shut behind him with a quiet snick. He let out a breath, the tension he'd been carrying around since he'd come to New York finally leaving him. He wasn't completely out of the woods yet but he had one job and had a lead on two others. If he got either he would be able to sleep through the night without worrying about how soon he'd have to move back in with his parents if he couldn't make it here.

Chastity paused in the middle of reapplying her lip-gloss, a scarlet tipped finger touching the slick edge of her lips. "Did you get it?"

"Yeah!"

A high-pitched scream bounced off the walls right before she flung herself into his arms. "I told you so."

Sam returned her hug still kind of shocked. Honestly he had expected it to be harder. When she'd introduced him to Marco, the short, hard nosed man clad head to toe in leather had looked him over for a second then kicked Chastity out of his office. Following his instructions, Sam stripped down, spun and danced when he flicked a button and yelled, 'Dance'. Moving lithely to the changing music was the easiest part. He was quite proud of his body, comfortable being naked and got off on the attention of strangers. As the end bars of the song wound down, Marco gave him a curt, "Thursday, 2 o'clock. Don't be late." That was it.

Squeezing her hard in his jubilation Sam could feel her shift against his body, as a strawberry cloud filled his nostrils. His mind flashed pink. Pink lips. His eyes dropped to hers sticky, glossy as she wiggled. A hint of a hot pink tongue. It reminded him of bubble gum and Brittany. When he first saw her his stupid teenage brain had screamed, BOOBS. Now that he wasn't worried about getting employed, his body was actively noticing. Hard pink nipples. Ripping from her he took a step back then another. "Sorry" He muttered.

With a knowing smile, Chastity grabbed a handful of his 'Keep calm and rock on' t-shirt. "Come with me."

"Where are we going?" Keep calm. This is not calm.

She giggled. "To celebrate."

Celebrate? Sam swallowed nervously. He could celebrate. Celebrations needed boners…no!  _Horny idiot!_  They needed beer. Beer. Still talking himself down he blinked rapidly when he got dragged into a dark tiny room that smelled vaguely of bleach. "What are you doing?" He could barely make out the shape of her body.

"Whatever you want." She had this sexy little lisp that just reached out and grabbed him in the crotch.

Pressing the heel of his palms to his eyes, he thought fast. He wasn't cheating. Brittany was still at MIT and they'd broken up officially and everything and hadn't dated since her. It had been awhile since he had sex, it explained the hair trigger reaction to her body _._  He was well and truly single. In a big city. Far from home. And what 18-year-old guy turns down a blowjob?

Chastity had told him repeatedly that she was single. At the time he thought she was just making conversation but maybe it was some sort of signal. It was good though. The last thing he needed was to get his ass kicked over some random girl. He did not have health insurance.

God!

Sucking in a sharp breath, Sam's head tossed back cracking on a hard edge. That was the fastest anyone had ever ripped open his jeans.

The darkness magnified everything. The wet sucking sounds of her mouth, wanton, obscene, her nails digging into his inner thighs, the strands of her hair wound tight around his fingers…

"Sam?"

His eyes snapped open to find Blaine staring at him with a raised brow. "You okay?"

Lost in the hazy memory, Sam's eyes dropped to his friend's lips and for one crazy moment he thought, 'pink'. A strange heat bloomed on his face and he laughed it off. Blaine Anderson and blowjobs did not go together. He was the most composed, least sexual person he had ever met. Blaine was clean – squeaky clean. Especially after the Eli incident, he had become so obsessed with being 'good'. Sex was messy; he could only imagine the look on his face if you got cum on his perfectly styled super hard hair.

"What?" Blaine frowned at him over edge of his steaming coffee mug.

"Nothing."

Blaine looked up as Sam snorted again. His face had gone red like he was trying to suppress giggles. This wasn't what he expected. He'd been up all night listening for Sam's arrival finally nodding off in the middle of Conan. "Are you laughing at me?"

"No. Seriously dude, it is stupid." Sam attempted to get under control. He was being such a bastard. Blaine's sex life was Kurt's business. "How was your date?"

"Fine. I guess." Blaine lied. After Sam left and Kurt started questioning his motives the whole night had kind of limped its way to a less than satisfactory ending. An argument about his roommate and a wave from his boyfriend as he escaped in a cab back to Bushwick was definitely not a good date.

Sam eyed him for a moment the decided to try something, he asked, "Soooo… There was no…" He made the sound of bedsprings creaking. Blaine stared at him baffled for a moment. When he got what he was trying to say his eyes shifted over Sam's shoulder then back to the countertop.

"What? No. It was our first date. I mean the first date of our new rebooted relationship. There was no sex of any kind. There wasn't supposed to be sex…"

Sam tuned him out and just watched him fumble. It was weird how they never talked about sex. Not with each other. Guys their age, the whole world over, were spilling down and dirty details about every sexual encounter they ever had amid raucous laughter. Maybe it was a gay/straight thing. Hours would be spent on the, who is cooler, Batman or Ironman debate? But when it came to sex they were both suspiciously quiet. It just always felt wrong. He considered pushing the discussion but at this point Blaine was practically purple in the face from his long-winded defense.

He should let the poor guy off the hook.

Gathering up his bowl and spoon, Sam rinsed and dried them off before stowing them in the cabinets. He put away the milk and sugar wiping down the small spill he'd made. Blaine followed his movement from the fridge to the sink back again until the kitchen was once again spotless. Carefully not thinking about Kurt and Sam and bedsprings. They had more pressing issues.

Holding his steaming mug in his hands, Blaine rocked back on his stool. Sam hadn't brought it up so he had to. "Are you mad at me?"

Sam turned frowning at him. "Mad about what?"

"The uh - the stri –" Blaine skirted it lest he says the word and offended him all over again. "About out argument last night."

Taking the stool across from him, Sam's fingers drummed on the soapstone surface. "I am not mad." He shrugged. "I know you are just trying to look out for me. But I also think that just because we are friends doesn't mean we have to be okay with every decision the other makes. You're still trying to marry Kurt. I don't get it but I support you."

"My marrying the love of my life and you working as a striper are not even remotely connected." Blaine tried to take a breath and not overreact like he had last night but this was difficult for him. "I care about you. I'm not going to apologize for wanting the best for you. But – " His hand shot across grabbing Sam's before he could get up. "I'm sorry for being so –"

"Dickish"

"Patronizing."

"My word works better." Sam insisted.

"Forgive me?" Blaine gave him his sweetest smile. "It was only recently brought to my attention that I can be an entitled –"

"Little shit."

"Do not finish my sentences." When Sam smiled back at him just as sweetly Blaine shook his head. "Okay. I will take it. I am so sorry. Happy?"

"Very." Sam got to his feet and yelled, "Tina. We're going to be late."

"I'm coming." She yelled back.

 _They had plans. Together._  Feeling oddly left out, Blaine inquired, "Where are you two heading?"

"We have an audition. Actually I had the audition then I told Tina about it and she wants in."

"You're auditioning for what?" Blaine raised his voice over the slamming of a door and the clatter of heels. He hoped for a play, a reality show even a boy band – No Tina - Anything that kept Sam's clothes on would be a step up.

The tiny brunette skidded to a halt besides them, dropping a bulging handbag on the counter. She reached for Blaine's mug took a big swallow then clarified, "We are going to be singing waiters."

Blaine grabbed for his cup and missed as Tina stole it again. "You want to be a waiter? You know you have to serve people not take food out of their mouths."

"I know how clear a table and my memory's awesome so I won't need to write stuff down." She scoffed managing to whip out a compact and check her makeup all without releasing his cup. "I'm sick of sitting around here besides I will have solos everyday."

With a put upon sigh, Blaine circled the island and got another cup from the stainless steel cabinets. He could hear them map out a travel route behind him, Tina running her song choices by Sam. She didn't really get that the job was more about waitressing than about singing. Did not get how hard it might be to provide entertainment and service.

Refilling the new mug from the sleek coffee maker, Blaine leaned back watching them. Their excitement to get out into the world and live was infectious. Maybe he should consider doing something outside his comfort zone.

He straightened; ears perked when Tina suddenly asked, "And which one of your women should I thank for the opportunity? The blonde or the other blonde? I don't want to seem rude if I bump into her on the street or – you know - leaving your room."

"Katie. She's not blonde and I am not hooking up with her."

"You mean yet." Tina pushed with a naughty wink. "One of us should really meet someone and you've already met all the women in a twenty mile radius. I am not judging, you are a good-looking guy. Get some for all our sakes."

Blaine knew Tina wasn't being mean. She probably hadn't even considered his presence at all before she spoke and why would she? The last time they talked about his crush on Sam he had been pretty adamant that it was in the past. He was back with Kurt. He'd survived her less than discreet winks and nudges but pushing Sam into a physical relationship was crossing the line. He would never admit it though; he could barely admit it to himself.

Pushing towards them, he interrupted, "I don't think he – I mean any of us should be having sex for sex's sake. We are not animals. What about love?"

"Dude, I don't have time for love."

"Strippers have time for love. Wasn't that the whole premise of 'Pretty Woman'?"

"Morning" Artie's entrance drew all their attention but he focused on Blaine, thick lenses proving a point. "For the record, Julia Roberts character in Pretty Woman was a prostitute not a stripper."

"If it's going to be like any movie, please God let it be like 'Magic Mike'"

"Tina." Sam lectured dragging her towards to door. "Channing Tatum doesn't work at the club"

"A girl can dream." She yelled back. "Wish us luck."

"Luck" They both replied.

Blaine turned finding Artie solidly focused on him with a little smirk. "What?"

"Nothing."


	4. Chapter 4

"Stop it."

Artie glanced up from his bowl of Frootloops giving him a ridiculously innocent smile. "I'm not doing anything."

Blaine narrowed his eyes at him getting an enthusiastic crunch of cereal in reply. "Fine. You win. Do you want to do something today?"

"Can't," The other boy mumbled around a mouthful. "The shuttle is coming at 10. Tour of the campus and facilities for the rest of us who come with considerably more baggage." He gestured at the chair. "You can come with if you want. I don't know what the policy is on bringing lookee loos but I can ask."

Blaine seriously contemplated going with him. He didn't want to be alone but this was Artie's thing and Tina and Sam had their own thing going on. He'd expected glorious days and nights spent with Kurt exploring the city that he hadn't thought of a different plan outside of that possibility. It was quite pathetic really. "It's cool. You go. I'll be okay."

"You sure?"

"Yeah" Whipping out his phone Blaine scrolled through the phonebook. Maybe Rachel was free or Santana.

A sharp rap on wood stole their attention and they both swung towards the now reopened doorway.

"Kurt?"

"Hey" The slim boy gave him an airy wave. "You should really lock your doors. Anyone could waltz right in."

Blaine slid to his feet approaching him slowly, cautiously. Who knew what would send him scurrying back to Bushwick? "What are you doing here?"

Shoving his fists into his pockets, Kurt rocked back on his heels. "I was hoping we could take a walk and talk."

Blaine could feel his palms start to sweat. This was it. The conversation that would make or break them, the conversation he did not want to have because it shone light on parts of himself he didn't want to examine. Much as he wanted to run, there was no way around it. "Su-re."

He could hear Kurt and Artie talking from the depths of his room. Hoping his friend wasn't sharing his flawed theories about him and Sam, he pulled on his shoes and got a sweater. It was still far too hot for one, the light wool stuck to his clammy hands, but he needed – something to hold on to.

Their exit from the apartment was a blur; Blaine braced himself for yelling and accusations that never came. A half hour later, they sat on the opposite ends of a wooden bench looking out over a busy park. Kurt's fingers drummed on thighs. Resisting the urge to fill the silence Blaine rested his elbows of his knees and watched the people go by, hand in hand, couples of all ages, orientations. When a sound came from his side he turned.

"I used to watch Cheaters, almost every Saturday night," Kurt started, jumping into the truth so hard that Blaine sat up and started to cringe again. "It was such a guilty pleasure. The poor hapless wife torn between violence and misery and on the other hand the cheating bastard who never showed an ounce of believable remorse. It always seemed so black and white. When your boyfriend cheats on you, you leave. Only a fool stays. All I know is you are not some random guy and I must be a fool because I still love you."

"Kurt –"

"I wish I didn't. Soul mates don't cheat, they don't lie, and they don't hurt you the way you hurt me. Honestly, I think it would have been kinder for you not to confess. But here we are."

Blaine wrung his hands. "I'm so sorry." He apologized again, that's what you did when you the one that screwed up.

Kurt exhaled. "While I can admit that I'm not entirely blameless in this mess we can both agree - what you did wasn't my fault. I can keep torturing both of us with this farce of a relationship. Or I can let go of my anger and resentment and we can start again." He gave a rueful grin. "For real this time without me sabotaging all your attempts at romance. And we have to talk about everything."

Aching with emotion, Blaine nodded. "Okay." Forgiveness, even halfhearted felt really good.

ooOoo

It was way after midnight when Blaine got back home. The squeak of hinges was abnormally loud in the dark apartment, the scuff of his exhausted feet dragging on the carpet deafening. He was emotionally wrung out and physically drained after being the equivalent of a human punching bag for the last couple of hours. His hand found the fridge, and he quickly withdrew a bottle of water squinting in the light flare, withdrawing he took more comfort in the dark; enough light had been shed on him to last a lifetime. Getting up on the high-backed stool, his throbbing head met the cool stone of the oval island, the ice-cold bottle he pressed to the back of his neck did little to ease his pounding headache.

"Don't do the crime if you can't do the time." He berated himself in a silly voice before dissolving into a sad little giggle. God, he was tired. Too tired to sleep after the emotional scouring he been through but he had to try. He was having breakfast with Kurt for their real actual fresh start; hopefully tomorrow he won't feel quite like a hostile witness in a court of law like he had today.

Dropping the dripping bottle into the sink he trudged past the living room. Rounding the hallway, he paused in front of Sam's door it was open, just a crack, he could hear him talking. Blaine was tempted to just rush past and hit the sheets but Sam's situation had also been niggling at him all day and despite the talk they had this morning, he didn't feel completely settled. Peeking into the open doorway, he watched him pace his cellphone pressed up to his ear. The low murmur of Sam's voice got clearer as he stepped inside.

"I'm fine mom."

Oh crap! Eavesdropping on Sam's phone call with his parents was not cool. Turning to escape, Blaine tripped over a lone Converse sneaker shoulder slamming into the doorjamb. Embarrassment overrode pain and he turned back mouthing 'Sorry' at Sam's raised brow.

"Mom, I gotta go." Sam waved him in. "No, no… Mom… enough with the tears. Yes I will be safe. I love you too." Blaine smiled faintly as Sam added a thousand 'don't worry's' and another thousand 'I'm fine's' after that.

Taking advantage of Sam's distraction Blaine scoped out the entire room. Light grey walls contrasted with blue accents and dark furniture giving it a masculine yet inviting air. Even in the few days they'd been there Sam had managed to make the room his. It was different from what Blaine expected, much neater than Tina's whose room looked like a bomb of heels had gone off. Besides the kicked off shoes just inside the door everything was in its place. He drifted over to the writing desk, tilting the lit table lamp illuminating the unfinished sketches taped on the wall above. His fingers trailed from paper to paper catching on dark brash lines of a partial nude. The beautiful symmetrical lines were more suggestive than pornographic but he moved on afraid to get caught ogling it.

A polished guitar leaned on the bedside table and Blaine was sitting on the deep blue duvet plucking softly at its strings when the battered brown case tilted on its side caught his eye, he flipped it open studying the old fashioned camera inside.

"It was my dad's."

Blaine started. "God, Sam I'm sorry I didn't mean to snoop."

"It's okay." Sam sat besides him sliding the boxy contraption out onto his hand. "It's a piece of junk. No. I mean…" He squeezed his eyes shut then shook his head. "It doesn't work, all the parts were discontinued in like the 50's and stuff. It only has value if you know my dad…and are his son. Its value is uh -"

"Sentimental" Blaine finished for him.

"Yeah. He collects vintage cameras. This was the first one he ever got. He gave it to me when I was leaving."

"He loves you."

"Of course he loves me I'm his son." Sam said this without hesitation or doubt, like it was the most natural thing and Blaine wondered what it was like to be that sure of a parent's love. His father always looked at him with a vague air of disappointment like he'd become gay on purpose just to piss him off. No amount of good behavior or academic achievement on Blaine's part ever dented the weight of his disapproval.

Dipping his head, Blaine thumbed the metallic knobs and changed the subject. "Congratulations by the way." He said. "Tina's text said you guys got the job. We should celebrate or something."

"Celebrate?" Sam croaked, a violent blush creeping up his neck. "What do you mean?"

"Dinner mostly or a drink." Sam's eyes met Blaine's then skittered away. He was acting weird.

"Dinner! Yup! That is what I thought you meant."

Definitely shifty.

"That reminds me." Sam leaned over him snatched a black scrap off his headboard and shoved it at him. "Help me with this. I have been trying to get the knot right all night but it keeps – falling apart."

Blaine unfolded the slippery scrap. "Sam it's just a bowtie I've seen you tie one before."

"I know. Maybe it's one of those things that you know you know then you forget because you aren't doing it all the time. You know?"

Blaine definitely did not know what that whole jumble of words was supposed to mean but Sam had an extreme case of crazy eyes and he was now sitting too close to him. Nodding he slid away, a mere fraction. There wasn't a lot of room to maneuver without him looking like he was trying to escape. Blaine was quite pleased with the fact that his eyes only dropped to Sam's lips once. Sure it hadn't happened in months not since he realized how much he missed Kurt and wanted him back. This Sam thing…there was no Sam thing. It had been a crush and it was over. He wouldn't let Artie get inside his head.

"Sam, maybe you are just nervous."

"Hell yeah, I'm nervous. I'm freaking out. You would be too if you watched your future boss scream at a waiter for twenty minutes because he was missing a button.  _A button._  Then he fired him. In front of everybody." Sam crashed onto his back. The temporary relief Blaine felt at receiving a modicum of space snuffed out when Sam raised his arms over his head, his t-shirt riding up exposing his abdomen.

Staring right ahead, Blaine wondered how to escape. Was the room getting smaller and darker? "I'm sure it will be okay." Patting Sam's knee absently he wished he'd gone straight to bed. After an entire day spent dissecting his infidelity he shouldn't even be here. "When are you starting?"

"Tomorrow. We've got a training session before the trial dinner shift."

"And your other job?"

"Day after." Sam groaned. "My hours are going to be kind of crazy for a while. I don't think I planned my shifts well. You should come watch a show sometime. I know you are picturing it as really like sleazy and it is - only not as sleazy as you think."

Thoughts of Sam stripping just led to him naked. Okay. He had to get the hell out. Deflect. "I don't want to tell you how to live but you've got some sort of plan right?"

"What do you mean?"

"For your life, for college, just because you didn't get in the first time…"

"Blaine, drop it. Okay?" Sam shoved to his feet striding to the far end of the room. "I didn't get in. I am not going to get in. Not all of us are going to rule the world. Some of us just get to know the guy that knows the guy that does."

"So that's it?" Blaine wanted to accuse him of giving up but he was on precarious ground as it was.

Sam shrugged his face falling into shadow. "All I need right now is to figure out a way to keep a roof over my head and food on my plate and not ask my parents for money because they will bend over backwards trying to help me when they should be taking care of each other and Stacey and Stevie. I don't owe thousands of dollars in student loans so the way I see it, I'm already coming out ahead. Sorta. Are you going to keep giving me shit about this?"

Shamefaced Blaine shook his head. He would drop it. For now.

"Good." Sam's quick smile was like a cool rain after a drought. "My life plan is simple. I could keep on feeling like a loser because all you guys got into college and I didn't or I could have some fun." He shoved open the floor length curtains to his right and popped open the windows. "Listen" He gestured. "We are in the greatest city on earth. No school – for me – No parents. Don't you feel it?"

Blaine was torn between Sam's excitement and his innate caution. "Feel what?"

"Free. We have complete and total freedom. We can do absolutely anything we want."

"Life doesn't work that way." Blaine got to his feet reaching his side. "We don't get to do whatever we want. I think people are safer with boundaries. If you know where the line is you're less likely to get hurt or hurt someone else."

"You think too much."

"There is no such thing."

"Too much thinking gets in the way of adventure." Sam waved his arms in emphasis. "You can't get to Mordor if you don't leave the Shire behind."

"Frodo would not agree with you, Samwise."

"Okay that was a bad example. I mean anything can happen here." Sam looked like he was in the middle of a personal debate. "Stuff like - Chastity offered to suck me off in a closet at the club last night. In 18 years, that has never happened to me. This is a city where stuff like that happens."

"What? That's the tackiest thing I have ever heard." Blaine was completely blindsided. They'd been in an LOTR conversation for god's sake. "Sam you can talk about adventure all you want but you're not reckless. You would never do that with a stripper in a filthy club?" Sam was suspiciously quiet watching him with those eyes. "Sam? Tell me you didn't do it?"

"I did not do  _it_. I thought about it but it was a bad idea. Like that word you used."

"Tacky?"

"That's the one."

Why didn't he believe him? Maybe because all of a sudden Sam was a little closed off. Two seconds later he said. "I am going to crash. Really tired. Big day tomorrow." Blaine found himself outside his closed bedroom door a second after.


	5. Chapter 5

As the last of his classmates let out, Blaine slouched in his seat letting out an ungentlemanly yawn. His History of American Musical Theatre class was exactly as boring as it sounded and it probably wouldn't change until they got to Vaudeville and the Roaring Twenties. Professor Lehmann tended to drone on as he strolled around the class, his eye more interested in finding the barely concealed bosoms of the female students than imparting any wisdom on the laborious subject. Head lolling back, he exhaled. Lecherous old men aside this was Blaine's final class of the day and he could actually relax. At the buzz from his cellphone he flinched, he didn't need to check it to know it was Kurt.

Tapping in the code to unlock, he swiped it open and sure enough there it was right on cue, 'Where u at'. Suppressing the hint of irritation that shot through him he tossed the phone aside and packed up his books and tablet, shoving them haphazardly into the dark leather messenger bag. No point stalling. Slinging the strap over his shoulder, he headed for the door colliding with Kurt just outside.

"Ow!" The other boy laughed even though his eyes didn't back it up. "You didn't reply my text."

 _For the love of God._  Raising his arm with the iPhone clutched tightly in his right fist Blaine said, "I just got it."

"Oh" Kurt sounded relieved even as for a moment his eyes flicked over Blaine's shoulder checking out the empty room. If Blaine at this point hadn't been expecting it he would have missed it, it happened so fast. The subtle checks to make sure he was exactly where he said he was, was becoming more common everyday. Kurt brightened; smile turning genuine when he realized Blaine was alone. "You ready to go? I told Rachel, we'd meet her and Finn for dinner if that's okay."

Blaine made a play of making sure he had everything then nodded. "Of course."

It would be nice to have company on their date. Usually when they hang out, Blaine was never sure how the evening was going to go, they oscillated between awkward silence and chatty over sharing. This felt like a long night ahead filled with meaningless small talk and painful glances so having another couple along that was struggling just as much eased the burden a little. As long as there was no karaoke, Rachel loved her some karaoke. "What are we doing?"

Kurt tittered. "Not karaoke."

Their eyes met and they had one of those rare moments when they were so in sync that it felt like old times. Though they were fairly few and far between they gave Blaine hope that he could ill afford.

The brisk walk to the restaurant was filled with an accounting of their day, tiny little details of their classes, Kurt then sharing a forgettable story about Isabel and her army of sycophants. Shaking his head, Blaine tried to follow the convoluted storyline. It wasn't forgettable. He was just being petty because today of all days he didn't want to try so hard to be happy. Not after they'd been together a month, a whole month filled with effort and suspicion.

Shoulders hunched, Blaine gave a little shiver sliding his hands into his pockets. It was getting colder, October arriving in a chilly rush. He loved that little nip in the air, loved the cold more than the heat. It brought to mind hot cocoa, fireplaces and snuggling all day in bed with a lover. For months Kurt had featured as co-star in Blaine's fantasies but he was quickly realizing the difference between dreams and reality. They had been intimate a couple of times. It was inevitable since they were together all the time and were both eager to paint over the cracks in their relationship. While the act itself had felt good, Kurt always sprung from their bed as if ashamed that he had given in. As if that little bit of concession on his part was something to fear. Blaine reminded himself that trust could only be rebuilt over time. His frustration at the dragging timeline was ultimately pointless since this whole situation – the awkwardness and mistrust - was his fault.

Kurt bumped his side. "Wake up, Muttley, you're dreaming again."

Blaine flushed. His first thought was, that was the kind of thing Sam would say. Except  _he_  would do the Dastardly voice and Blaine would go back to staring at his lips. He did that too much, wondered what Sam was doing. How his adventure was going? If it was everything he hoped.

"There they are." Kurt exclaimed, picking up the pace dragging him along.

Finn and Rachel seemed really relieved to see them. Something about their faces was too tight, their smiles too bright. Obviously the whole 'future wife' project wasn't going exactly according to plan. Blaine could relate, to all of it.

The restaurant they'd settled on was small and quiet. The other diners, couples, all huddled around properly set tables talking in hushed whispers. A stern efficient waitress brought out their menus and took their orders in under ten minutes leaving the initial discussion over what to eat to taper off into an uncomfortable silence.

"So?" Finn broke first. "How is everybody? Artie, Tina and Sam? Is he really stripping again? I can't believe he chose to go back after last time. Remember when we found him at that dive bar?"

Rachel nodded. Before she could share her two cents, Blaine bit out. "Sam doesn't like to talk about it and we shouldn't either."

It was one thing for him to criticize Sam, he was his best friend, it was quite another for others to judge him in his absence. It was especially not their place to use him as fodder to fill in the conversational gaps in their miserable little lives.

"Sorry" Finn leaned back his large body creaking on the flimsy chair. "I didn't mean anything by it."

Now Blaine felt bad. He shouldn't let his discontent ruin everybody's evening. "They are all fine. I think… It's been a while since I've been home."

Awhile was a bit of an understatement. He hadn't anticipated how much the beginning of the school year would change everything. Almost overnight they became four different people on four different schedules. He had classes during the day so did Artie. Sam and Tina were working at the restaurant till after 11pm. By the time Tina got home, Blaine was about ready to crash so he could get up early for his morning classes. Sam's hours were more irregular, he left his shift at the restaurant, went straight to the club and got home at about 3am. For about an hour after he got home all you could hear was the shower running. It became more common for Blaine to find no one home so he started spending more time at Kurt's…

"Blaine?"

Looking up he found three sets of eyes boring into him. "What?"

"You okay?" Kurt found and squeezed his hand.

Humming, Blaine changed the subject to the one subject neither Kurt nor Rachel could resist – Broadway musicals. This evolved into a lively debate about which was the best show and whether Kinky Boots deserved its hype, finally breaking the odd standoff they'd found themselves in. The rest of the evening went off without a hitch and Blaine found himself gratefully back out on the curb. Intact. He'd survived. Somehow. Kurt too was more relaxed. Rachel was standing a lot closer to Finn; happier than she'd been when they arrived. He – well – he wanted to go home. His home.

"Hey listen." Blaine pulled Kurt aside. "It is going to be kind of crowded at the loft with Finn there so I was thinking I could head home. Just for tonight." As excuses went, this one didn't only have no leg to stand on, the other one was gone too, arms as well and probably the head. It was a torso of an excuse.

Not even Kurt was buying it. He fell into silence, eyes focused on his shuffling feet. "This is because of earlier isn't it?"

"No it's not."

"I know I have become weirdly clingy and stalkery. I don't mean to be. I would give anything to stop it, to simply trust you again but it's not easy." He took a deep breath steadying his voice. "My emotions are all over the place. I love you but I can't stop pushing you away."

"It's okay."

"No it's not." Clenching his fists, Kurt crossed his arms over his chest. "And it doesn't change the fact that despite this humiliating exchange all I can think about is - you haven't asked me to go with you."

"Kurt…" He beseeched.

"No you're right. You should go home." He sniffed, an impatient hand brushing his cheek. "A night apart is probably a good idea."

Guilt trailed Blaine all the way home.

"Hi sweetie." Tina called out the second he walked in. Rubbing the back of his neck, Blaine strolled into the living room finding her twisted into a pretzel on the camel sectional couch painting her toenails. The open laptop besides her opened onto her Pinterest page with a magnified pattern she was trying to recreate.

"You're home." He murmured.

Her smile eased most of his stress. "You remember me. I'm your friend Tina. I live here.  _Here._  Right where you left me."

"Ha ha!" Blaine's bag hit the floor and he plopped next to her, head resting on her shoulder.

Tina carefully transferred the open bottle of black polish from one hand, giving him an odd hug one-armed hug. "I'm guessing it's not coming up roses in the Anderson-Hummel household?"

Blaine twisted, with his back on the wide arm so he could see her face clearly. The desire to spill the truth rode him but he didn't want to complain about Kurt, didn't want anyone thinking less of him but he had to talk to someone. "It is harder than I expected. He is still really mad at me."

"Blaine," Tina looked at him steadily. "It's okay for you to admit that it's not working."

"No. I can't." His voice climbed from a hoarse whisper. "I am  _not_  going to be this guy."

"What guy?"

"The guy that does something stupid or runs away every time things get hard." Blaine couldn't stop the odd heaving of his chest, baring his soul always left him so panicked and exposed.

"Remember when you asked me why I was ditching Vet school and I said it was too complicated to explain."

Tilting his head, Blaine hummed in acknowledgement.

"Turns out it wasn't." Placing the laptop on the coffee table, Tina turned facing him too. "When I was eleven my mom left my dad." She said quietly. "She stood up in the middle of dinner, walked out the door, got into the car and she was just - gone. My dad tried to act like there was some emergency and she was visiting my aunt but I never bought it. Ten days later she came back. On her own. Like nothing happened." She took a deep breath and rolled her eyes. "The one thing I will never forget is the look on her face right before she got up. A look of such fear and desperation right before she ran from us, her family. I have  _never_ seen any one look so trapped."

Blaine gaped, opening and closing his mouth wondering what to do with this information. He'd seen Tina's together they always looked so solid. "But they are still together."

"Staying together doesn't equal happy. We look happy to outsiders but if you look at them closely, you can still see the parts of them that are broken. It makes me wonder how much of our history we carry with us, you know." She smiled a little, grimaced. "My biggest fear is that I will turn into my mother. One day I will look at the choices I have made and freak the fuck out. Which is why I cannot stop changing, clothes, direction, lifestyle… I call it evolution but really I may just be running from her, from myself. I don't really know anymore." She put her hand to her chin, thought a little. "What are you afraid of?"

There was any number of lies Blaine could tell her but in the face of her brutal honesty how could he avoid doing the same? "I'm afraid I will spend the rest of my life chasing the one thing I cannot have and nothing else will ever be enough. That despite having everything I need I will be miserable like my father." He swallowed hard. "I don't know what to do. How do you ever know which is the right path?"

"Sweetie," Tina's hand slipped into his, her thumb sliding over his tripping pulse. "I don't know."

Blaine choked out a laugh. "What the hell? I thought you were going to hit me with some wax on, wax off wisdom?"

"All I know is you better make sure you are chasing Kurt because you want  _him_  and not because you are trying to prove to yourself that you're not a bad guy." She considered then said simply. "To thine own self be true."

"So this gap year you're taking, is you trying to be  _true_?"

"Yes"

"I think you've been spending too much time with Sam."

"You would be too if you weren't hiding from us for some reason."

"I'm not hiding."

"Then come hang out with us tomorrow. Oktoberfest's starting and we've all missed you."

Blaine smiled through the little burst of warmth in his chest. "I can't. I've got class all day besides I don't think brewskies, Sauerkraut and lederhosen are really Kurt's thing. I mean it doesn't seem like something either of  _us_  would enjoy."

"How would you know you've never been?" Tina pointed out.

The more Blaine thought about it the more excited he got. It would be nice to engage in a pointless, mindless, zero expectation activity with his friends. Without Kurt. "Okay?"

Tina whooped. "This is going to be so much fun."

ooOoo

Blaine's alarm rang out right on time at 7 am. He rolled over hitting the snooze button already sorting through his schedule for the day as his head cleared the pillow. He was halfway through brushing his teeth when it hit him. He was cutting school today. It seemed so young and juvenile but he wanted to scream and wake everybody up so he could actually witness first hand what they got up to when he wasn't around. He'd missed them too but yanking them out of bed at this hour would be too cruel. Blaine debated, he was too wired to go back to sleep but he could make breakfast.

Sam's door opened just as he was leaving his. Ridiculously Blaine's pulse picked up, it felt like forever since he'd seen him. It would be so good to talk to him and it would have been but for the girl sneaking out, disheveled, barefoot and wearing Sam's shirt.

Blaine slipped unseen back into his room. The tears when they came caught him by surprise. What was dumber than mourning the closing of a door that was never really open to him to begin with?


	6. Chapter 6

"I can't believe he bailed on us."

"More bitching about Blaine?" Sam was getting used to Tina's random bursts of cursing. She'd been doing it for four days since her and Blaine had apparently had some big talk.

"He promised to come with us then I woke up and he'd vanished. Then he sent a text. A text!" She read off her phone. "Something came up. Can't make it. Sorry. - Three half sentences are not an explanation" She snarled. "It's like he's been sucked into the dark side. If it's not about Kurt then he's not interested."

Sam shrugged. Anything he said would just add more fuel to her rant.

"Don't you miss him?

"Yeah I do but he came to New York to be with Kurt. He's  _with_  Kurt." Sure, it bugged him that Blaine had basically been ignoring them over the past couple of weeks but he had no idea what Tina was bitching about, at least Blaine talked to her. He never picked up when Sam called. Maybe it was something he had done but it was more likely Blaine was too wrapped up in Kurt after pining for him for over a year, at some point he'd have to come up for air. Bottom line was Sam couldn't begin to worry about Blaine not when he had real problems.

"Hey" Sam nudged Tina. "Can you focus for a second and tell me if I can cut my hours back? I don't know how much longer I can keep working my ass off on 16 hour back to back shifts here and at the club."

Blowing out a breath, Tina slid the sheaf of papers out from under the napkins they were supposed to be folding before the dinner shift started and they were flooded with customers. "You did good. After paying off the house fees, DJ fees, costumes, tanning, waxing, and general manscaping which will be an ongoing expense. –" She waved in the general direction of his body not taking her eyes off the pages. "You know half of this deduction is mostly conjecture because you don't have any actual receipts."

"Conjecture?"

"Guess work."

"I cannot get a receipt for giving a lap dance." Sam explained keeping an eye out for their boss who would lose his shit if he caught them slacking off. The enormous restaurant was mostly empty a few of the other staff were in groups cleaning their work areas and setting up tables.

Tina nodded absently. "Then you have rent, utilities, your cellphone bill, travel expenses, food so you don't, you know, die."

Sam nodded impatiently. He knew exactly how many bills he had; they featured in his dreams like some awful ticking clock and he barely slept enough as it was. "Is it enough?"

"Well" She gave him a supportive grin and a fist bump to his shoulder. "You broke even. Yay!"

"Broke even?" Groaning Sam's head hit the counter again and again. "Fuck!"

"Please stop." She whispered. "People are staring." Sam stopped forehead resting on the polished surface while Tina rubbed his back. "On the bright side some of the stuff on this list were one time expenses, like your costumes. The ass-less chaps were pretty pricey but they are essential to your act and those babies will pay for themselves."

Sam's laugh tore out of him; suddenly amused even through his disappointment. He loved how supportive she was about everything he was going through. Who else would spin ass-less chaps into a plus? He never thought the day would come when he'd say it but Tina was really kind of cool. Despite their initially rocky interactions, she had oddly enough become his biggest champion.

On the very first day, they'd literally been dropped into the deep end with the dinner rush. The way the fancy food was pronounced wasn't the way it was written, Sam's dyslexia kicked in with a vengeance and he mixed up all his orders. The more flustered he got, the more the words bled together until he could barely read the menu. He'd been struggling to input his food orders into the computer for the kitchen staff when she'd popped up, done it and walked away without a word. From that point on she just handled it even when the cashier's frequent disappearances to the bathroom left them to process their own payment. If she hadn't intervened Sam would have had to sit around waiting for him to return, while the customers snapped their fingers impatiently because he didn't want to make a mistake. Mistakes got you fired.

It had been such an incredibly selfless thing for her to do that later that night as they made their way home Sam had opened up about his money problems and his worries about stripping again. She had understood why he did it and since then they went over his finances weekly, mapping out a plan that would hopefully get him out in the shortest possible time. In the meantime, he'd run his act past her. She'd blushed and squealed and covered her eyes at first but after a while she had ideas about props, music and costumes. He trusted her.

Straightening he asked, "What does that mean exactly?"

"From now on, you can strip four days instead of six. With the money you rake in on Ladies Night you can manage the rest of your bills from month to month."

"But I – " Sam's throat squeezed, his hopes barely getting out. "I don't want to just get by. I – want to buy something without wondering what else I will have to give up. I want to not worry about getting sick because I sure as hell can't afford to see a doctor. You know. I want to put something away for emergencies and I – I need to send money home to my folks because I'm not sure if they are doing okay. They say they are but I don't know.  _For sure._  Getting by isn't good enough."

Tina leaned against him all pretenses at hard work falling away. "Don't get all mad at me for asking but aren't strippers supposed to make a ton of money? That is why you are doing this, right?"

"I think you mean hookers and there is no way I'm ever hooking."

"What about the other strippers? Are they making more?"

"Yeah but they've been there longer so they are a lot more popular. They have regulars and they do other stuff."

Tina's eyes flared wide like she could sense a good story. "What kinda stuff?"

Even though Sam had given it some thought. This was dangerous territory. "Fact is men are better tippers than women so on a very good night I can make 300 dollars and Chastity can make upwards of 3000."

"She makes three thousand dollars?" Tina shrieked. "A night?"

"She only works five times a month and handles the special club openings."

"But if guys are better tippers that would mean…" Sam could actually see the calculations fly across Tina's face. "You're thinking about stripping for guys? Gay guys? Are you serious? Wait. Is there a huge market for that?" Practical, her mind flitted straight to the bottom line.

"I'm not  _thinking_  about it. I had one thought.  _One random thought._  It was late and I was so fucking tired I was ready to try anything."

"And now?"

"Now?" Dumbfounded, Sam turned moving but not really going anywhere. "The only erection I have ever had to handle was my own. I don't know if I can stand having other guys dicks rubbing up on me all night."

Tina chuckled through his scowl. "But you're thinking about it."

"I – " Sam swallowed his automatic denial. "Five times a month! It's still a lot of stage time and humiliating table and lap dances but it's  _five times a month_. I can deal with five times."

They fell silent, stacking the silverware as the manager drifted too close carrying out his inspection before the opening of the doors. When he was finally out of earshot, Sam wiped his mouth, hand trembling.

"Problem is, it feels like I will be telling this huge lie. Pretending to be someone I'm not and that's offensive to gay people and their struggle. Right?"

Fingernail tapping on her chin, she wondered. "Are you sure you're not even a little gay because I don't know a lot of straight guys who would even consider taking such a drastic step?"

How often in his life was he going to get asked that question? "Tina!"

"Okay." She dropped it. "I don't know what the protocol or morality is on going gay for pay. You should talk to Blaine."

"No!" Sam recoiled. "Hell no! You don't know how super judgmental he has been lately.  _This_  is the kind of thing we  _never_  tell Blaine.  _Ever._ "

"Fine, I promise I will not tell Blaine. What more do you want from me? A pinky swear?" She sassed. "If you don't want to talk to him then you better ask Charlie."

"Charlie's gay?" Sam's eyes flitted across the room to the tall guy with the cropped blonde hair.

"You haven't noticed? The rainbow sticker on his bike helmet, those pants, the fact that he talks about it  _all the time_ …"

Sam gave her a blank stare. Honestly he had no idea and he talked to Charlie all the time. He was the only other waiter who didn't mock them about their small town roots.

"I have had other things on my mind." Sam ground out. "And how am I supposed to ask him? Dude, see the thing is I have decided to strip for gay guys so I can make more money to send my family. Do you mind if I use you as a practice dummy so I don't freak out the first time I do it at the club?"

"Yeah." She nodded. "Ask him just like that."

Panic hit Sam in waves. All these questions and plans were turning a stupid random thought into action. He wasn't ready for that, they were moving too damn fast." "Cover for me for like two seconds." He said before speeding across the room.

Sam ducked out the back door, spilling into the alley beyond. Scrunching up his face, he paced and thought about what it would mean if he actually pursued this. He prided himself on being open-minded. To each their own and what not. Out here in the dark by himself he could admit he had thought about what it would be like to maybe possibly be with a guy like that… but those were stray thoughts. Everybody had them. His confusion and ire turned from himself focusing outward. To Blaine. What was the point of having a gay best friend if he couldn't talk to him about this kind of stuff? Ideally, he should be able to ask Blaine but Blaine had disappeared into everything Kurt…Bushwick, NYADA and well, Kurt. It was stupid of Sam to feel abandoned but he did. They didn't talk anymore. It's like Blaine had forgotten they existed. So he was on his own.

"This is a horrible idea." Sam muttered. He enjoyed women, loved everything about them, their bodies…Katie had been coming over, fucking his brains out and leaving. No promises. No commitments. It took a lot of pressure off of him, he couldn't deal with a girlfriend on top of all his other issues. While he wasn't entirely sure what Zumba was, what it did to her body was freaking unbelievable. See, with thoughts like that, he couldn't be even a little gay. He was going to head back in and shut this whole scheme down. There had to be another way for him to make more money. He would figure it out.

He jumped when the kitchen door exploded outward, a tall broad shouldered man filling the empty space. Sam was pretty sure he could hear his heart thumping from where he stood. Chef Alain scared the hell out of him. His temper was legendary among the wait-staff, it accounted for at least three firings a week. It looked like Sam's whole plan to stay out of his way had finally collapsed. Frantically he looked around but his boss was blocking the only escape route.

The tension ratcheted up as the other man pulled a lighter and pack of cigarettes from his pockets. "Smoke?"

"Yes Sir - I mean… No, I don't smoke." Sam fumbled. God, he was a wreck.

"You're right not to smoke. It's a filthy habit." The tiny flame flared lighting up his face. After a long puff, he exhaled asking, "So you and the pretty little thing…"

Confused, Sam wracked his brain. "Tina?"

"Yeah! You two fucking?"

Well, that was direct. "Nooo- No" Sam stammered. "We are just friends."

"Good." He uttered, tossing the lit cigarette to the ground and snuffing it out. "Get back to work."

Sam flew through the tiny space he was given only slowing down when he reached the enormous dining room. He searched for Tina, hurrying to her side he whispered, "I know why we still have jobs."

Immediately interested, Tina cocked her head and waited. She was a terrible server and they both wondered why she hadn't been fired yet. After the last time she'd spilled hot soup down a customer's back they both waited for the axe to fall but it never did. If they weren't pooling their tips, she'd make almost no money.

Sam looked around then leaned in close. "The crazy chef into you."

He expected Tina to be offended or creeped out instead she gave a girly flirty giggle and after the past month he had enough experience to recognize them and said, "Really?" Then she glanced over her shoulder and giggled again. "He's kinda hot."

"No, he's not hot. He's married and he's like a hundred. Oh yeah and he's completely insane and our boss."

"He's 38 and he's separated."

Sam groaned. "This is a bad idea." Just another in a long line of bad ideas they were currently having.

"Don't you dare go all Blaine on me." Tina gritted back. "I accept you completely including the revolving door you currently have on your bedroom. Yeah, your room's right next to mine and your lady friend is not very quiet." Ignoring his stunned look she continued pointing between them, "You and I are the same. We are risk takers. We are not afraid to live which is why I talked to Charlie for you. He says he's happy to 'See what you got'."

"Dammit Tina." Sam hissed but she was long gone giving him a breezy wave.

_Fuck!_


	7. Chapter 7

'Nomad' was the first word to streak through Blaine's head when the elevator whooshed open, dropping him at his floor. 'Drifter' and 'Transient' followed soon after. With the way he'd been shunting from home to home, its no wonder he felt so disconnected from everyone and everything around him. Dragging on the hardwood floors, his footsteps slowed as he approached his apartment. He racked his brain for something he may have forgotten at Kurt's, an action that was ultimately in vain because he had everything he needed to live at both residences comfortably, two of everything, really. Pushing through the front door, he stopped his keys dangling useless from his hand. The huge space was so silent he imagined he could hear both his disappointment and his relief vying for first billing. One thing was for sure; they weren't home.

Any sort of company would have done.

Resigned to a day spent alone, Blaine fell face down onto the plump couch cushions burying his face in the woven cotton blend. Turns out it was possible for him to feel sorrier for himself. He'd rather have faced Sam and all the reasons he run from this place than spend time here alone with just his endless speculations filled with adventurous women. His ears perked as a thump came from down the hall, getting to his feet, he followed the resultant racket ending up outside Artie's bedroom, door flung wide open. Sagging with – yes relief - he surveyed the clothes strewn floor, as the three occupants argued.

"Take off the sweater vest." Sam directed.

"No." Artie crossed his skinny arms across his chest as if the cherished garment would be ripped right off. "It's freezing outside."

"It is not freezing." While reassuring him, Sam tugged at an unshielded corner. "If you want this girl to notice you, you need to stop dressing like a youth pastor."

"Oh, she'll notice him." Tina yelled from the depths of his closet. "She'll notice when she's choking on cologne."

Sniffing his shirt, Artie pulled off the vest letting Sam help him when it snagged on his glasses. "I used the normal amount." He protested from argyle depths, emerging rumpled to wipe on the smudged lenses. He slid them onto his face, eyes landing on Blaine in the process. "The prodigal son returns." He announced, smile pulling at his lips.

Blaine waved, his hand rising of its own accord. It was a silly self-conscious wave followed by an even more self-conscious, "Hi"

Narrow eyed, Tina stumbled out of the closet, blowing her hair out of her face. "You have some explaining to do." Thrusting a shirt she'd rescued at Artie, she ordered, "Wear this."

"I can't change anymore. I'm going to be late."

This started another round of argument that only ended when her phone started to ring, the piercing ringtone shattering the aimless squabble.

Blaine was barely able to get a word in edgewise. "You have a date?"

"Not a date-date. But um –  _date like_  activity."

 _What did that mean?_ He was just about to ask when he caught Sam shaking his head at him far enough behind for Artie not to notice. "That's nice."

"Damn straight. Now all of you get out so I can go through my pre date rituals - that I hope no one ever finds out about - alone."

"Dude, that was the exact wrong thing to say." Sam joked as he flopped onto his bed stretching out. "I have to see this mysterious routine."

"GET OUT!"

Simultaneous, 'Fine', 'Sheesh' and 'This is the thanks I get' were tossed at him as they all filed out. Tina wriggled past them, still on the phone, simpering, giggling, and flipping enough hair to blind someone.

Blaine was suddenly extremely aware that they were together alone. It had been awhile since that had happened and he stared at Sam filing away all the tiny ways he had changed from his freshly cut hair to the Band-Aid on his right ring finger. Separately they were uneventful little nothings, a cut just a cut, but together they had much larger impact, they were indicative of all the time Blaine had missed.

Sam nudged his shoulder scattering his fanciful thoughts. "I've gotta head out. Wanna come?"

"Yes!" _Wow that was eager._  Blaine took a deep breath, recalibrated. "I mean uh - where?"

"Drugstore."

There was nothing exciting about that. "Sure."

"Sam?" Tina called out as they were leaving.

"Don't worry. I got it." He replied.

Blaine followed behind him trying to decipher that short exchange that gave nothing away.

A half hour later, he had his answer. "Fluid lock grooves for leak protection?" Blaine read off the blue box. "You're buying tampons?"

"Tina's" Sam ripped it from his hand tossing it into the basket, his eyes perusing the shelves. "Do not look at her sideways over the next couple of days. She'll either take your skin off or she'll cry. The crying is worse. Last time I said something to her and she flipped out…anyway it was a whole mess. Just…trust me."

Completely turned around, Blaine checked out label after label.  _So much variety._  "How do you even know what to get?"

"She showed me. Exactly"

"Oh!" Blaine stopped surprised. "That's unexpected."

"It's not weird unless you make it weird."

There were some guys staring at them making it plenty weird but Blaine was stuck on the fact that Tina told him, like  _told him._ When did that happen? When did they get comfortable enough to talk about that kind of stuff? Come to think of it, when did Artie start dating?

"What is date-like activity?" He inquired falling into step beside his friend.

"I think it's code for super awkward group hang." Shrugging, Sam shook his head. "He is nuts about this girl, name's Lucy. The past couple of weeks, she is all he talks about I don't think she's into him the same way…He'll probably get his heart broken."

Well, there were a lot of those feelings going around, unrequited and oh so painful. "Why didn't you tell him?"

"He was so excited when he got her text. Besides I don't know this girl, maybe this is how she rolls because she's shy or something. No harm in letting him be happy."

His shopping list complete, Sam lined up to pay the tab. Blaine hang back waiting. The box of condoms the other boy slipped into the bags not going unnoticed.

Blaine let himself get roped into lunch. Who was he kidding? He'd been following Sam around since he got home. At this point he'd quite happily part with a kidney if it meant spending more time with him.

The diner Sam dragged him to was straight out of a 50's TV set right down to the checkered tile and jukebox sitting in a corner. Blaine stared around in surprise, it was a block away from their apartment but it may well have sprung fully-grown from the sidewalk cause he'd never noticed it. It pulsed pleasantly with sounds of chatter from various boisterous patrons and their children. It was a family place in all sense of the word, they stepped aside as a little boy staggered past with a pizza slice almost as large as his face, Sam's laughter triggering his own.

"There is no way he'll eat it." Sam slid into the booth across from him then glanced over his shoulder. "He's giving it a good try though."

Blaine peeked around the side finding the boy chewing furiously at a crusty corner both fists holding on, nothing was ever going to come between him and his meal - except his mom a second later. He wondered when he'd stopped doing that, holding onto what he wanted with everything in him. Learning how to let go was without a doubt one of the best and worst things about growing up. You didn't have to look past further than his relationship with Kurt to realize he hadn't mastered the art in either capacity.

Sam tapped his hand, long fingers sliding easily over his skin. "Are you okay?"

Flushing, Blaine's gaze snapped from his hand, to his lips then to his eyes, that were deeper, darker, steeped in concern.

He managed a smile, nodding. "I'm great."

"How is Kurt? Is he great too?" Sam teased. "Should I dust off my best man speech?"

"Not yet." Short and to the point it cut off any further inquiries from Sam. For a moment Blaine thought he would push for more detail, dreaded that he would instead Sam launched into a tale of one of their neighbors who apparently had a Ham Radio and a police scanner. Funny though it was, it wasn't what he wanted to talk about.

"Is there something you want to tell me?" He interrupted

"No" Sam answered, still looking shady as hell. "Is there something  _you_  want to tell  _me_?"

"Don't turn this around, Sam. I know you're seeing someone. It's totally fine. We can talk about her, if you want."

"That's what you want to talk about?" Letting out a breath, Sam beamed leaning back in his seat. "I am not dating."

"I saw her leaving your room, really early."

"Probably Katie and  _we_  are not seeing each other."

"I don't understand." Blaine murmured but then suddenly he did understand all of it. Unfortunately the first words that burst out of his mouth were, "Drug resistant Gonorrhea."

"Man, you sound like my dad. I'm not an idiot, I'm  _careful_." Yeah Blaine had seen how careful he was being. "Beside you can't expect me to believe you and Kurt aren't fu- having sex?"

Blaine wasn't sure what pissed him off more that Sam lumped him in with his dad or that he wouldn't swear around him. "We are but-" I do not enjoy it. Kurt is making me. None of those responses would be true. " _We_  are in a committed relationship."

Sam leaned in obviously about to engage in a vehement rebuttal when a large buxom waitress popped beside them. "Sam!" She greeted.

"Hannah." He smiled back at her sweetly. "How are you doing?"

"Good! Good! Is this your boyfriend?" She pointed right at Blaine with a pencil chewed down to a stub. "He's a looker."

"Yes he is." Sam replied without hesitation. "This is Blaine. We live together."

Blaine watched the entire exchange in a daze. His head had checked out after Sam implied they were together. He must have ordered because she jotted down some stuff and left soon after.

"She thinks we are a couple." He gasped.

Unconcerned, Sam shrugged. "Yeah."

"Why?"

"I told her I was seeing someone when I worked here for a couple of days. One night she pinched my butt, it was weird so I lied no big deal - your little relationship broadcast probably made her think I meant us."

"You can correct her." Blaine insisted grumpily.

"Why?"

"What do you mean why?"

"I don't want her to feel bad, okay? Like she's not attractive or whatever, she is but she reminds me of my Aunt Lois. This way everybody's happy and she keeps giving me free pie. And it's not like she's the first person to assume I'm gay. I have decided to just go with it when it happens."

"You can't do that?"

"Why not?"

Blaine raised an eyebrow but said nothing.  _Because you are giving me hope that something could happen with us was not an acceptable answer._

A sharp rapping on the glass, Sam tore his eyes away from his. Blaine watched him smile and wave back at the blonde guy outside the window, making motions for him to stay right there.

Dropping some crumpled bills onto the table, Sam slid out of the booth. "That's Charlie." He explained. "There is some stuff I need to talk to him about so I gotta go." Poised to leave, he dawdled. "Are you sticking around tonight?"

"Yes. I mean – I –"  _Real smooth Anderson._  Blaine cleared his throat nervously.  _Dammit._   _Get it out._  God, he was no good at this stuff especially with Sam looking at him with the eyes. He stalled fidgeting with the napkin holder. "Do you want me to?"

"Of course" Sam used his 'you're being an idiot' voice. "Sunday night is movie night and it's Artie's turn to pick the movie, unless you want to take a turn? Please take a turn he makes us watch artsy-fartsy, black and white crap. Its a massive snoozefest."

"Maybe next week?"

"Cool."

"Cool." Sam left weaving through the crowd, Blaine following his every move until he popped out onto the street greeting his friend.

"He won't disappear if you take your eyes off him for two seconds."

Blaine tore his attention from Sam and this Charlie. Rubbing at the cool spot on his forehead from where he'd been leaning on the glass window, he gave Hannah a sheepish smile.

"Coffee?" She smiled back gesturing with the half filled coffee pot.

"Yes please." He pushed his empty cup towards her watching the dark liquid chase up the ceramic sides.

Giving one last glance out the wide window, she said, "You two are so cute together." Before sauntering off wide hips swinging, greeting the other customers as she went. Blaine slowly stirred sugar into his cup looking around the overfull diner trying to hide his sheer happiness at her statement, failing. He loved the thought of complete strangers seeing them as a couple.

He was so pathetic.

ooOoo

Later that night as they all piled into the Living Room and fired up the Flat Screen. He couldn't seem to stop smiling, hadn't been able to since that afternoon. Sam sprawled next to him in the middle of the large couch, Tina crosslegged at the other side of him. She'd lectured him about his disappearing for the better part of the afternoon and he'd apologized over and over but he doubted he was in the clear yet. Artie cleared his throat, starting his presentation, which apparently had to be given at the start of every screening.

"Continuing in my vein of movies made in or about New York. I present," With a flourish, Artie picked up the DVD hoisting it above his head. "Manhattan." He boomed. Blaine chuckled at his elaborate effort to sell the movie to his very skeptical audience. "Seriously guys, this is one of my favorite movies of all time. It has comedy and drama. Complex adult relationships…"

"What year was it made?" Sam interrupted.

"1979."

Twin groans erupted from the couch.

Tina sighed dramatically. "Artie, why do you hate us?"

"This is Woody Allen at his most creative. It is a classic."

"A classic drag."

"Thank you, Tina." He snapped. "Thank you so much for 'The ABCs of Death' and the horrific images it seared on my brain. I haven't looked at dogs the same way since."

"Yup!" Sam shoved her. "Tina that movie was messed up."

"It was more interesting than Piranhaconda." Tina kicked Sam to send her point home.

"SyFy's movies are supposed to be bad, that's why they are awesome." Sam defended grabbing her foot, "The phrase so bad it's good comes from that."

"No, it doesn't."

Blaine tried to focus on their debate but he couldn't tear himself away from Tina's foot or the ease with which it had rested in Sam's lap and stayed. Like it was comfortable. Normal. Glancing around he expected any of them to say anything, no one did even when Sam grabbed her ankle giving it a light stroke. It was just him disintegrating all on his own. This wasn't how they were supposed to be together. Sam and Tina fought, they were fighting now, the way they always did but it held a certain fondness that was missing before. Shoving to his feet Blaine made a popcorn related excuse and stumbled into the kitchen.

This was not happening, his brain screamed. Sure, Tina was the right gender and everything and lately with Sam's casual approach to relationships who knew what would happen. If they started hooking up –  _please God no_  – he would have to move. He couldn't stay here and watch them find each other. Blaine flipped through the cupboards until he found the box of popcorn ripped it open and tossed it into the microwave. It took an inordinate amount of time because nothing was where he left it. Spinning his gaze snagged on the chore wheel taped to the fridge, ripping it off he scanned the information. His name wasn't on it. Almost like he didn't live here, like he was a guest who only stopped by occasionally and he  _was_.

Nomad.

At one point his absence may have been a gaping wound but they were slowly healing over it, over him. How soon until they wouldn't miss him at all?

Blaine started as Artie wheeled in, the piece of cardboard falling to his feet.

"This is the longest anyone has ever taken to make popcorn. Don't tell me you're ducking my pick too. It is an amazing movie as long as you're not –" He gestured over his shoulder and lowered his voice. "- a philistine."

"I'm not avoiding anything." Blaine busied himself filling the clear bowl, melting butter and tossing out the translucent packets. He paused before drizzling the butter into the bowl. Last time he'd done it Sam wouldn't eat it, he'd gone on about the fat content. Blaine had no idea if he'd eat it now. Maybe he should ask Tina.

"They are really close." He stated. It was a question, posed as a statement, dripping with nonchalance.

"Sam and Tina?"

He hummed still unable to look up.

"Yeah. They are always in corners whispering. I think it's about her new boyfriend."

He snapped up. "She's seeing someone?"

"Yes and don't pretend like I didn't just make your night. So stop moping and get a move on."

Blaine couldn't even be bothered to pretend that it wasn't the best news ever. He nodded. When they headed back in he felt a lot better.

"You ok?" Sam murmured the moment he sat down.

Between the unexpected crying jag last week and the sudden completely ridiculous burst of jealousy, it was getting harder to refuse that he felt something for Sam. Pointless though it was. All the sentiment in the world didn't make Sam any less straight or Blaine any less…he shied away from the word 'trapped'. After hearing Tina's story, he dreaded everything it implied about his life. "I'm good." He replied right before Artie shushed them.

Sam shifted leaning heavily against his side. "This is why I told you to take a turn."

"I will choose the movie next week." Blaine promised. From now on he had to figure out a way to merge both of his worlds. He didn't want to be forgotten.

"Oh God! I sense Moulin Rouge." Artie grumbled startling them. "Bring back robotic acting and poor CGI monster mash-ups. Now, shut up, it's starting."


	8. Chapter 8

"This isn't working." Sam paused mid grind landing heavily onto the lap beneath him. "We've been at it for over a week, why isn't it working?"

"I have no idea." Tina circled them. "But this is the least sexy thing I've ever seen. There's no passion…no heat…you are just going through the motions. Granted it's a lot better than when we started but it's still pretty bad. Maybe you should try connecting more with your dummy."

"First off," The man beneath him protested. "Stop calling me dummy. Secondly, I think it's working." He shifted, teeth gritting. "I'm really into it."

"Yes Charlie. I can feel how into it you are." Sam snapped at him. His body's reaction was impossible to miss.

"I'm just saying, a hard-on is always a compliment."

Rolling up her newspaper Tina whacked him repeatedly on the head. "What did I say about you being all rapey?" Laughing, Sam rocked back to get out of the line of fire, pulling a tortured groan out of his eager volunteer. More than half of their sessions disintegrated into name-calling and violence. Tina's presence went a long way towards dispelling the creepy element since she was always around directing their interactions. Despite Charlie's flirty attempts he was a pretty good guy, not many would have agree to be part of this mess.

Sam dodged a wide arc of Tina's swing. God, this whole situation was a crazy trip! After a week of these sessions like they called them, Sam had gotten used to the sounds Charlie made when they practiced and how flirtatious he'd gotten after them. He'd asked him out more than once, promising to introduce him to the joys of having a P spot but Sam just wasn't into it. It had taken sometime for him to adjust to the differences of having a male body beneath his. All angles, no curves. With each interaction he had adapted further until being this close to another man, no longer fazed him. Not even the hardon pressed up at the apex of his thighs gave him pause. It had become normal, the only thing it still wasn't was… appealing.

And that more than anything - the fact that he felt nothing at all during these sessions - was bugging the hell out of him. There was no spark, not even a hint of a chubby no matter what he tried. Objectively his new friend was a good-looking guy, nice body and handsome face but Sam felt nothing. Even after he'd been rubbing up on him for hours and Charlie had his head tossed back moaning like he was about to shoot in his shorts. Nothing. Dammit. Maybe he wasn't even a little bit gay or maybe, just maybe, he wasn't attracted to Charlie. Sam took comfort in that theory, clung to it with an abundance of hope. There would be more guys at the club, a much larger crowd of test subjects.

"Can I move now?" He addressed Tina.

"Yes" She sighed. "This is probably as good as you're going to get. Are you sure you'll get through tonight?"

Oh yeah! Boys' Night at the club. He'd finally managed to get on the roster. "It will be fine." He reassured Tina. "If everything else fails, I will just fake it. I have done it before and I can do it again."

In a matter of hours, Sam came to regret that statement as a butt naked guy wriggling into a jockstrap jostled him in the dressing room. Still fully dressed, he imagined he could feel the sparkly over-tanned skin burning through his jeans. The room was beyond packed, the number of bodies tripling nearly over night. Looking around, he hadn't been able to find a single familiar face, seemed the guys he usually danced with catered exclusively to women. Stag night as he'd recently discovered was a fully-fledged circus. Wall to wall strippers struggled for mirror space, butting heads, trading insults, junk flying. He had never seen so much glitter and makeup and dicks in one place. "Stop staring!" He mumbled under his breath as a burly guy wearing a fireman's helmet leaned closer to the mirror lining his eyes with a thick black wand. He tossed Sam a sly wink his tongue flicking out in what had to be the worst come on ever.

Sam turned as someone called his name. A slim impatient man with a clipboard jabbed his way through the crowd and came at him. "Are you Sam?"

For a moment he thought about saying no. "Um yes?"

"Good. I have you penciled in after Hammer." The man pointed at the massive guy dressed as Thor, if the superhero had only worn lace up boots and a leather thong with the red cape. "You better get changed. If you fuck with my schedule you're out. I don't care how well Chastity knows my boss. Okay?" With a final smirk, he spun on his heel and stormed off.

"Okay" Sam breathed. He was not in Ohio anymore. Twisting he shoved past Hammer finding a relatively quiet corner in which to change. The mirror had only two lights one blinking in and out of life; no wonder this spot was so unpopular. Leaning close, he ran a shaking hand over his hair. Ohgodohgodohgod! "The hell are you doing?" He muttered at his reflection.

Sam was always honest with himself about what he could or could not do. His dad always said you could lie to as many people as you wanted but you could never survive if lied to yourself. Complete personal honesty was the only way probably why no matter what anybody said he knew without a doubt that all he had going for him was his body. He  _could_  go out there, ham it up for the crowd, make paper then go home to a very hot shower then a very long nap. He  _could_  do this job for as long as it was necessary, weeks, months, years… Ripping his shirt off his chest, Sam balled it up in his hands. He could do this. Stripping did not define him. It didn't. Focus. Taking a deep breath, he settled.

Chucking off his jeans, Sam thrust both items into his bag. Digging deeper at the repetitive blinking from his phone. It was probably Tina once more texting 'Abort'. She had been skeptical the whole way down, presenting a whole heap of argument about him not being ready but Sam had persisted so she tugged along anyway and was currently in the crowd waiting for him with Charlie.

Debating for a second, Sam wondered whether to bail. Nothing about this was working like he'd expected. He had been less than honest with Tina about why he wanted to go gay for pay and that was bothering him. Yes he needed the money but this was also the perfect environment for him to figure out certain parts of himself that had been eating at him for the better part of a year. At least it had seemed perfect until he walked through the door. It wasn't the naked guys,  _that_  part he was cool with; God knows he'd been in enough locker rooms for it not to matter, but everything about this place screamed wrong.

Unlocking his phone, he found that he'd missed two calls from Blaine. His best friend calling him these days was enough of a novelty that Sam immediately reacted. Looking around there was nowhere private enough to call him back. With this kind of background noise Blaine might ask where Sam was and he didn't want to out rightly lie to him. He always noticed the little things Sam didn't want him to. It was one thing to not reveal all the details of his life to him quite another to deliberately deceive him. Especially since Blaine had been around a lot more, they where hanging out a bit. He still spent his nights with Kurt but he was trying and Sam eager to meet him more than half way. Jotting down a quick text instead, "Busy, hands full. Will call asap." He waited, in his boxers, in a dressing room at a strip club.

Blaine's reply came immediately. "Ok."

This was so wrong. He had to get out. Sam was scrambling back into his jeans when a heavy palm rested on the small of his back, fingers caressing. Jerking away he rounded on his molester. "Do not touch me."

"You are brand new." The guy, blue streaked hair, dark suit swayed on his feet, bloodshot eyes running up and down Sam's body. "I could use someone like you." He smiled, with shark like teeth. "Someone exactly like you." Circling Sam, his hand came close but didn't actually land on him again.

"Listen, dude," Sam pulled on his shirt as fast as he could. He needed to get the fuck out like yesterday. "I'm not interested."

"Dude?" He hummed then laughed, no one that young should have such a hacking laugh. "Curious and curiouser. You haven't even heard my offer. It could change your life."

"Is 'Free Candy' written on the side of your van too?" Sam taunted, fishing out his phone he dialed Tina saying, "Meet me out front." when she answered.

Beyond ready to leave he grabbed his bag but the persistent fuck stepped in front of him blocking his path. Sam growled, brimming with impatience as the man grabbed his elbow. He flashed a black card at him then slipped it into Sam's shirt pocket patting it for a weirdly long time. "Ask around. When you figure out who I am, come see me."

Sam twisted out of his grip, fleeing the dressing room just at Hammer was being announced. He found Tina pacing just outside. She flew into his arms "You choked. Thank God."

"I couldn't go through with it." He admitted, her long dark hair tickled his face and they were in full view of everyone and he didn't care. The financial loss was obviously a huge blow but he just couldn't…"What am I going to do?"

" _We_  will figure something out. Okay? We take care of each other." She reassured giving him an extra squeeze.

Stepping back, Sam relaxed the pressures of the past hour sliding off. "Where's Charlie?" He asked just as the other guy came out.

"Sorry, I got – distracted." He smirked. "The bear in a cape upped the ante by fellating himself. You dodged a bullet, no one can follow that act." The hug he gave Samm belied his flip tone. "What's this?" He grabbed the card that was sticking out of Sam's pocket.

"Some shitfaced guy gave it to me says he could use me." Sam shuddered, stealing the card back he made to throw it away.

"Don't throw it out." Tina snatched it out of his hand. "He might be legit." She frowned at the silver letters embossed on the black card. "One name, no details. Maybe he's a celebrity. You could become famous."

"A celebrity? Drunk off his ass in a gay club? Really?"" Sam scoffed. "Legit in this case probably means sleazy guy with roofies and a camera. I don't feel like getting murdered today. Maybe I don't know - next Tuesday?"

Tina shoved him stepping in line as they walked away from the club. "Ronan Ash" Charlie pondered besides them. "I know that name from somewhere. Like big gossipy scandal somewhere."

"I don't care who he is." Sam stated slinging his arm over Tina's shoulder. "Let's get out of here. I need a big drink."

"Dogma's still open," She pointed out. "Mitch promised to let me in and you can dance and not get singles thrown at you."

"Big win." Charlie murmured still preoccupied with the card, his hand still managing to slide around Sam's waist.

"Boundaries, Charlie!"

"Oh" Crestfallen, the other man removed his hand that had started lightly stroking Sam's butt. "Are we done with this?"

"Oh yeah. We're done. Social experiment over."

Sam pushed aside every gay thought he'd been having all the while thinking he should call Blaine back. This whole side adventure had been pointless and idiotic like all his other ideas. He wasn't gay, not even a little bit. Being attracted to just one person of the same gender was impossible; everything he thought he'd felt in the past was probably just gratitude or bro stuff. A fluke brought about by ridiculously pretty eyes. A straight man with a massively gay blind spot for just one guy? Yeah right?

He should really call Blaine back.


	9. Chapter 9

"You're primping."

Blaine stared back at Kurt's reflection, his hand frozen on the one stubborn black curl that refused to surrender underneath gobs of gel. "What?" Nervous laughter bubbled beneath the surface. "I am  _not_  primping."

"Yes, you are." Kurt thrust his phone out at him. "The reason for your excess grooming called; he's going to be late. Guess you didn't hear it ring cause you were too busy doing that." He gestured at Blaine's hair every strand now annoyingly, perfectly in place. "It's only Artie and Tina coming so you don't have to try so hard."

Hand dropping to the sink, Blaine twisted the lid back onto the nearly empty jar, twisting and twisting until he would speak without yelling. Yelling would start yet another fight and he couldn't do it. Not now. It wasn't the first time that Kurt had implied he was attracted to someone else, fellow students and random guys on the street were among his usual crop of suspects. Bringing up Sam was new and he wasn't entirely sure how to handle it because in this instance it was actually true. "I'm not dressing up for anybody."

"Come on, Blaine. You went from talking about him  _all the time_  to never mentioning his name in the space of a week. Now you've invited them all over for dinner and you're fussing about the way you look. What am I supposed to think?"

Kurt's suspicion not to mention his constant need for reassurance was beginning to grate. "I didn't talk about Sam all the time."

"Yes, you did, Blaine. Now – you say nothing." Kurt crossed his arms, chewing on his bottom lip, tension building in the tiny room until his eyes shot up meeting Blaine's in the reflective surface. "Do you have feelings for him? Because if you knew you had a thing for him and you moved him all the way from Ohio…"

"No! I – I don't." Denial, instinctive and destructive poured out of Blaine. "Sam is straight."

"Not what I asked."

Sucking in a breath, Blaine's fingers tightened on pale enamel, tacky remnants of raspberry hair gel clinging to the pads. He focused on his impression in the faucet, blurry, distorted. God, he so was sick of this, the random attacks and his token apology had become the only way they communicated. "I came to New York for you. I'm here with  _you_." He said; words weary from overuse.

"That is no longer the compliment you think it is."

Blaine's stomach lurched and he thought he might be sick. What more could he add? How much more could he give? "What do you want me to say?"

"Nothing," Kurt closed his eyes a familiar look of disappointment shooting across his face. "Just say…nothing."

"Are you two at it again?" Santana burst into the cluttered bathroom ending their stalemate. "If I wanted to live in a bloody war zone, I would have moved to East Flatbush."

Blissfully distracted, Blaine tried to catch her eye, which was being expertly lined and coated. "You're leaving?" He asked waiting as she reapplied her lipstick and made use of a myriad set of brushes – now that was primping – before answering him.

"Yes. I'm out. Got a date."

"But –" Blaine needed bodies, several warm bodies to give this night the illusion of merriment. Santana was loud and consistently insulting to absolutely everyone she met. She was the perfect distraction. If they were all focused on her, his friends wouldn't notice the crumbling state of his relationship. He followed after her, standing helplessly by as she snatched up her bag and boots settling on the couch. "You promised to stay."

"I lied." Zipping up her sky-high boots, she shrugged unconcerned about wrecking his plans.

"Why don't you and Alice start out your date here? It could be fun." He implored.

"Fun?" She hissed. "Trouty going after yet another of my girlfriends is not my idea of fun. So I'll pass."

"Um – I – uh…" What did she want him to say? Quite frankly he didn't like thinking about Brittany or the subsequent Sam/Santana tug of war over her. Much as he loved Brit, make that 'like', he didn't get what was so special about her or why Sam had held on so hard to her., he'd even married her. Gah! Maybe it was better for Santana to leave anyway; he didn't need her dredging up old memories. This night was proving to be hard enough to get through as it was. So Blaine let her stalk out with a "Later, losers.", flung over her shoulder. He exhaled looking around. Now for Plan B. Where the hell was Rachel?

"Rach?" He found her in her bedroom, earphones blaring, sheet music in one hand, foot tapping along with the beat. She merely raised one finger at him yelling to be given a few more minutes. Since she got the part in Funny Girl, it had eclipsed everything and everyone. It might have just been an understudy role but she'd disappeared into the Fanny Brice persona constantly humming and rehearsing the lines.

Blaine sighed, great…just great. He might as well have made her Plan Z for all the good she was going to do him now. He was on his own and he should accept it. Finding Kurt leaning on the back of the couch waiting for him, Blaine hesitated but the continued verbal attack did not come.

"I'll get her." The other boy said instead moving towards Rachel's bedroom.

It was a tentative truce and Blaine eagerly grabbed it. "Thank you."

The knock at their door came right on time and he run to open up, eager for some normalcy. Tina and Artie pushed in, cheeks red, smiling, offering up four bottles of wine; according to Tina, you could never have enough. Even though he knew Sam would be late, Blaine checked the hallway anyway dismissing the hollow feeling in his chest. It wasn't loss. It wasn't. Resisting the urge to quiz Tina on his whereabouts he let them in, the waves of greeting between them, Kurt and a disgruntled Rachel washed over him. Pulling on the armor of the happy boyfriend, Blaine showed them around, breaking out a corkscrew and glasses as Kurt relayed the history of the building. It was a short tour and they ended up congregated around the small dining room table all awkwardly taking their seats.

"Where is Sam?" Blaine could almost believe his casual tone as the words forced their way out of him, both eager and impatient filling the minute gap in conversation.

"Some guy offered him a job." Tina replied. "I don't know the details yet but he'll be here soon."

"A job? What kind?" Blaine pushed. "Does that mean he's done with…his  _other_  job? I mean – how many jobs could he possibly hold and still function? Normally? There are only so many hours in the day."

A heavy wooden bowl hit the table. "My boyfriend's asking if Sam is done stripping." Kurt chimed in giving him a pointed look. "Aren't you, sweetie?"

Blaine caught the odd exchange between Artie and Tina, raised brows speaking volumes. "I'm not – I'm not invested in Sam's choices."

"Keep telling yourself that." Kurt muttered. Ignoring him, Blaine passed around the pasta and the salad filling his plate, keeping his head down as the others did the same. They engaged in small talk, catching up on their former classmates, the familiar names keeping them preoccupied.

At the rumbling from the rolling steel door Blaine jerked sitting upright as Sam burst in. "I am so sorry, you guys." He strode in and shrugging off his jacket, halfway across the room a flustered look streaked across his face and he rushed back to shut the door. "I was waiting for this guy and he didn't show. His assistant had to track him down in Miami." He apologized to the room. "When we'd talked earlier, I thought he was in New York, my bad."

Blaine was trying not to smile like a loon but Sam was so put out, no one had ever deserved forgiveness more. He hated that he couldn't rush over to him or say anything but Kurt's eyes hadn't left him since Sam walked in. So he could only look on as Rachel reached him first leaning into his arms, Sam kissing a proffered cheek while he could only nod with a blank non-demonstrative face.

As Sam folded into one of the small chairs right next to Tina; he glanced at Blaine giving him a smile. "Hey."

"What happened?" Tina whispered urgently. "He's a celebrity isn't he? I was right. Right? Right?" She was probably going for stealth but with them all jammed in together her questions were broadcast to pretty much everyone else.

"Who's a celebrity?" Artie passed Sam a plate.

"He's not." He whispered back then turned to the rest of them and shrugged. "I was supposed to meet this guy, Ronan, about a job. He is not a celebrity, he's just an artist far as I know, he has a big show in a few weeks and he needs a model."

"Ronan?" Mid bite, Rachel perked right up finally showing interest in their conversation. "Ronan Ash?"

"Yeah."

"Shut up!" Squealing, she elbowed Kurt who seemed reluctantly impressed. "He's not just an artist. He's a visionary. We were at his last show in April. It was a massive production about death of the arts. He used real live models who were literally covered in blood and guts. It was the talk of the town…maybe because he's so young or maybe because of his family situation…"

"Or because he is a junkie who throws massive orgies at his loft in Chelsea." Kurt took a sip twisting the delicate stem of his glass.

"That is just gossip." Rachel spoke right on top of him. "All these outrageous stories follow him wherever he goes."

"Rumor is; his Upper East Side family disinherited him when he came out." Kurt shared. "The great Ashwoods cannot be openly gay. Week after they disowned him, Ronan was plastered all over the gossip rags, buck naked riding a senator, all the naughty bits were blacked out of course but it was the ultimate fuck you to his parents."

"Where did you meet him?" Rachel interrupted again. "He usually publicizes the fact that he picks up his models in strange places. One of his last models was practically homeless when he discovered him. Now he is the face of Levi. Oh my god!" She gasped. "I know an Ash model."

"Possible model. I haven't actually spoken to the guy. All I have is an appointment." Sam seemed shocked by the whole information overload. Blaine could barely take it in himself. He really hoped the junkie/orgy thing was just a rumor.

"So you're done stripping? If you get it I mean."

"I - guess."

"Sam, that's amazing." Rachel gushed. "Not to judge you but I no longer approve of overtly sexual professions for um - personal reasons." Despite how vaguely she put it they all nodded in understanding, the Brody story had spread through their small group like wild fire.

"Hmmm." Kurt turned to him, his elbow braced on the table, eyebrow cocked. "Sam is not stripping anymore, that must make you all sorts of happy. Right?"

Put on the spot, Blaine bit down hard on his bottom lip as Artie and Tina had yet another silent exchange. Oblivious, Sam shifted his pasta to the other end of the plate not really eating. Blaine could count on one hand how many bites he'd actually taken. "It's no big deal." Dropping his fork, Sam pushed away from the table. "Model or stripper, naked is naked."

With that final dismissal they fell back into silence until they broke off into smaller groups. Blaine cleared up slowly stacking up the plates. This had been a disaster. Merging his worlds was proving impossible especially since this group of people were acting more like acquaintances than old friends. Rachel and Tina sat on the couch, one bored, and the other slipping an earphone into a left ear. Sam fiddled with the TV, Kurt chatted with Artie throwing him a glare when he caught him watching Sam.

Ignoring the little kick of panic, Blaine finished up and joined them. Going through the motions was easy; over the past weeks he'd learned how to feign happiness. It didn't always stick but god was he trying and he could keep it up for a little while longer. Turns out it wasn't that long, his friends were as anxious to leave as he was for them to be gone.

They said their goodbyes just outside the door. Rachel disappeared back into her room and Kurt was off somewhere, even though Blaine could almost feel his eyes boring into his back searching for the faintest hint of betrayal. Both Artie and Tina gave him a quick hug and insisting he come home soon. Nodding he lingered with Sam, avoiding his gaze, aware of how much distance there was between them, wondering how long he could live like this.

"So…that sucked." Blaine gave him a faint self conscious smile.

"We should have gone out. You know - lots of booze and music so no one has to talk."

In hindsight that would have been a better plan, but Blaine wasn't sure he could handle Kurt, Sam and alcohol at the same time. Lowering his inhibitions would blow his composure to hell, he'd barely touched the wine from worrying that all the rage he was burying would explode out of him. "Yeah. Next time, huh?"

"Sure thing."

Even without looking at him Blaine could hear the doubt in his voice. The ever present, 'Are you okay?' Blaine was tired of the question. He knew he was a mess. No matter how hard he stuffed it down his misery was spilling out unchecked. He didn't know how to admit that his relationship had barely gotten off the ground, that failure ate at him constantly and these days all he felt was either sad or mad. It was humiliating and painful.

"You know you can come home anytime you want." Sam's hand hovered over his shoulder right before he pulled him into his arms for a hug.

Blaine nuzzled in, his nose brushing the warmth of Sam's neck. He could barely answer over the roar in his head from the hand cupping the back of his neck, Sam's thumb stroking just behind his ear. More than a hug, it was exactly what he needed. It took a lot for him to pull away and stop trying to burrow beneath his friend's skin and get lost in him.

"I'm gonna head out, okay?" Sam still looked worried. "Don't tell them I said this but I don't think I should let the girl and the kid in the wheelchair find their way home alone."

"Okay." Blaine murmured keeping a straight face until they left.

ooOoo

Sam raised the ice cold beer to his lips taking a much needed swig. After his super long day and that weird ass dinner, Kurt giving him strange looks the entire time -what the hell was up with that? - He needed a drink. Blaine's eyes haunted him, he looked so miserable. As bad as he felt for leaving him behind in that sad little apartment, he knew Blaine was choosing to be there, they had all made it clear that they wanted him around. He was picking Kurt over him - them anyway so it was no one's fault but his own. Scanning the hyped up crowd that filled the tiny dance floor, he spotted the familiar sight of Tina twerking along with some guy. Artie had headed straight for Lucy and her friends. He hugged the booth in the corner nursing his third bottle, ignoring the pointed attention of some chick in a dress that could have doubled as a bikini. He wasn't in the mood to meet anyone tonight.

Tina startled him as she squeezed in next to him slamming a tall cocktail glass filled with amber liquid topped with several ice cubes on the table. "God, that was messed up." She yelled over the loud music.

"That guy?"

"Not him. Kurt and Blaine." She turned waving at the guy who was leaning against one of the round pillars. "The guy – Andy - was nice enough to buy me a drink. Long Island Iced Tea is now my favorite drink."

Sam could tell, she was babbling, already kind of tipsy. He knew the drill. They had rules. Only one of them could get 'ass over tits' drunk at a time. This was her turn, she would dance all night with some guys as long as she was in his eye line at all times, he made sure she never left with any of them. When his turn rolled around, he would do a lot of shots while she had some wine at the bar. He could go nuts confident that he would wake up in his bed, alone. It was their system.

"I was saying…" Tina squinted at him, giggled. "I don't remember. I need to dance…Yes! I wanted to tell you that I got  _us_  on the A Team."

The A Team was their name for the cater-waiters that their restaurant employed. They only worked special events, got paid a lot more than they, the B Team did. Sam grabbed her arm before she could dance off. "What did you do? Don't tell me you asked crazy chef to bump us up?"

"I didn't ask. I may have dropped some very strong hints when we were last together."

"Tina!"

"What is the big deal, Sam? You need money. They make $40 more an hour than we do for half the work and they get to perform at all these events. If I have to sing acapella happy birthday at the restaurant one more time, I will choke someone."

"I don't want you to feel obligated to bone this guy."

"Sam" She dragged him off to a quieter spot. "I am already  _boning_  him and it is awesome. He's a man, experienced, you know, he knows exactly where  _stuff_  is. I don't have to spend all night yelling, 'Left. Go left. No! Not my left, your left.' It's so freeing. I get to cum 99% of the time instead of almost every other time. Mike was a sweetheart and he really tried but…"

"No, no, no." Sam cut her off. He would never look Mike in the face again if she finished that statement. "As long as you're sure that you're not doing this just for me."

"I'm sure. Now, come dance with me."


	10. Chapter 10

Son of a bitch! Sam craned his neck checking out the high painted ceilings, gold sconces and the huge chandelier hanging in the middle of the ballroom which was about the size of a football field. They were serving here? Way to go home and feel like ten times poorer. Did it smell different? Like flowery money?

"Damn!" Tina echoed his sentiment. "Rich people are  _rich_."

"Tell me about it."

"No one this loaded deserves to be happy, leave something for the rest of us."

He couldn't agree more but the elderly couple who were having their fiftieth wedding anniversary here seemed really happy. Kissing where God and every body could see them, there had been tongue and an ass grab. It was gross in a really sweet way. "Oh! Oh!" He murmured glancing sideways at his partner in crime. "Megan is giving us the eye we'd better get moving."

Old hands at looking busy, they quickly moved from table to table laying out silverware, turning napkins into swans. On more than one occasion he caught the other waitstaff giving them the crazy side eye. Tina cheating the system and bumping them up to the A Team hadn't won them any friends. They'd been left out of group rehearsal, the team manager, Megan told them to pick a song and be ready to go on when they were called. No other information was imparted. It was nice to be making more money but the snide remarks directed at them all the time were getting more barbed. "They really hate us." He remarked as Jerry swung by bumping one of their tables so hard a chair tipped over, slamming into the floor.

"We've been hated before." Tina picked it up. "As long as they aren't carrying slushies, we'll be fine besides I don't care what they think."

He hoped to God that was true because a group of them sashayed past spitting a very unoriginal, 'Whore'. It was McKinley High all over again. "Come on," Sam directed as they finished up. "The guests will be arriving soon."

Once the ballroom started to fill up, they got really busy and while he was serving the same section as Tina was, he only caught the occasional glimpse of her refilling wine glasses, fetching and carrying. He was also kind of preoccupied with the florist's very pretty daughter, Emily so he lingered in the back more than he needed to. It was only when the whispers started to swell that he realized something was wrong.

"Oh my god, she's going to cry." One of the bitches cackled as he was reentering from the kitchens. "Ten bucks says she starts sobbing right in front of them."

He followed the source of their glee to a frozen Tina at a table that held Crazy Chef – and his wife. Fuck! She did look like she was going to cry. He had to get to her, Sam shoved his tray at harpy number one not caring whether she caught it or not. Tina spun round fleeing just as he took a step in her direction and he followed after her.

"Tina?' He called out as he tracked her down in the bathroom. "Open up!"

"No! I'm never leaving this stall." Her sniffling grew into tiny broken little sobs. "He said they never ever talked…as good as divorced…they didn't even look close to divorced. God, I'm such an idiot. I believed him…all…this…time." A loud metallic rattling filled the air. "And there's no toilet paper…oh god, I hate my life."

Sam rushed into the next stall bringing her one of the extra rolls. He rethought passing it to her under the door, she really might stay in there forever. "I got some. Open the door."

The latch snapped, door pushing open inch by inch, her rush of tears starting up again when she saw him. "I'm a frigging mistress…crying in a filthy bathroom." She wailed. "This would never happen to Olivia Pope."

"Are you kidding me? Olivia is constantly crying over Fitz," Sam ripped several handfuls of tissue off the toilet paper roll thrusting the white bundle at her. "Why do I know that? I hate that I know that. What have you done to me?  _No more Scandal._ " He admonished.

A curious head popped over his shoulder saying maliciously, "You thought you were special, didn't you?" Sam shoved her off him and the red headed girl stumbled back still laughing. Fucking mean girls. Santana 2.0.

"Fuck off, Amber!" He snarled throwing the half empty roll at her. "Nosy bitch!" He swore over the receding clacking of her heels. Turning back he surveyed the wreck that used to be his friend. "Tina, you cannot stay here."

With a one track mind, she focused on Crazy Chef. "He said they were separated officially, all that was left was to cross the T's and dot the I's… _That asshole._ "

Finally, rage, Sam sighed relieved, rage he could work with, he would even help her kick their boss in the 'nads. Unfortunately, it only lasted a majestic second before she crumpled into yet another torrent of tears. Fuck! He had to get her out of here before they were called out – Fuck - the duet. Sam scrubbed his hands over his face. They were supposed to perform with their luck it was probably soon.

"Tina!" He shook her firmly. "We are supposed to go out in a few minutes. You wanted this, you pushed for 'Your all I need to get by' and I agreed even though I hate that fucking song. You've been looking forward to this all week; don't let that bastard ruin this for you. Okay?"

Tina simply blinked at him owlishly.

"What? What can I do?"

"I'm just waiting for you to break into Gloria Gaynor… _I will survive, just turn around, now you're not welcome anymore…"_

"Hilarious" He shoved her, happy that she was stepping back from the edge. "Fix your face. You look like you were run over by a truck filled with tiny raccoons that roundhouse kicked you – in the face."

"That's a terrible analogy."

"At least you're smiling so come on." Right on cue, Megan pushed in ordering them to the stage. He could tell she was disappointed not to find Tina a sobbing wreck in the toilet bowl. Bitch! Sam got them to stage on time. Tina was a little unstable on her feet and her voice wasn't as strong at some points but this wasn't sectionals. The crowd cheered when they finished, it was good enough for him. Now all they had to do was rip off the snazzy vests and get back to serving.

He switched tables with Tina but his were still 'adulterer and wife' adjacent, Crazy Chef kept staring at her and she was unraveling right in front of him, that damn lip wouldn't stop quivering. Sam counted down the hour, by the second and then by the minute, time had never passed slower but they made it. Sam ushered her out, dodging the clean up but hell they could take that out of their pay. Taking the service exit they were almost out the door when  _he_  called her name. It might have been the huge panicked eyes or that Tina looked about a second from caving and hearing the bastard out. God, where was his wife? He needed a freaking leash.

"Hey," Sam pulled her to a stop, brushing Tina's hair off her face he tilted her head upwards. "You trust me, right?"

"Of course."

"I'm going to do something. Just go with it." He whispered then he kissed her. It was intense in a way that only fake passion could be. "Now smile and act like we can't wait to get home and rip each other's clothes off." It worked. By the time he looked up, Crazy Chef was gone, the double doors swinging ominously behind him.

"Did you see the look on his face?" Tina collapsed against him relieved. "Oh Sam! You are the best bro a girl could ever have."

"You're okay." He hugged her. "We take care of each other remember?"

She nodded. "That was a hell of a kiss."

"I've had a lot of practice." She snorted, a sound that halfway through turned into a sob.

Holding her at arms length, Sam enticed. "Want to go home, get drunk and watch Family Guy reruns?"

She agreed leaving with him. "We are going to get fired, aren't we?"

"Definitely." He flung his arm over her shoulder and they made their way home.

ooOoo

In little over an hour, they'd gone through most of a bottle of Kahlua. Sam was adding ice to their glasses, arm braced on the counter to steady himself while Tina mumbled to herself on the couch. She veered from anger to tears, then she beat herself up a little, called herself a fool and he countered her arguments, sang with her when she broke out into empowering Beyonce songs. He had to take her phone away before the drunk dialing begun managing to switch it off without her noticing when Crazy Chef tried calling her. They could deal with the fallout in the morning.

Blaine's homecoming in the middle of that emotional chaos was met with some cheering,  _not a lot_ , but some. Sam was pretty sure it was mostly Tina, right before she knelt up on the cushions and began to explain how nobody liked morning sex, no matter how good you were at it.

Sam burst out laughing at the stunned look on Blaine's face. "She over-shares when she's drunk." He explained over a very detailed sex act that came with gestures and elaboration. "Give her a break. It's not every day you meet your boyfriend's wife  _and_  lose your job."

"How did that happen in one day?" He asked.

"Because boss and boyfriend were the same guy." Oh man! Maybe he over-shared too when he was drunk.

"What? You were sleeping with your boss, my god Tina." He whipped round advancing on Sam. "How could you let this happen?"

"What do you mean  _let it happen_?"

"I'm not surprised by any of this; you are a big fan of people doing whatever they want with their bodies no matter who gets hurt."

"I didn't do anything." Why the hell was he defending himself? Sam wondered. "Tina's a big girl if she wants to swing on a D all night long. I'm not going to stop her."

"You're not going to stop her?" Blaine came at him, accusations falling hard and fast. "You know what Sam…Your whole 'nail it if it moves' philosophy may work for you but when will you stop for five minutes and realize that your actions hurt others?"

"This had  _nothing_  to do with me."

"It had everything to do with you and you can't even see that you are being a terrible influence on her. If you want to sleep with every girl in New York City then, that's fine – for you. Stop trying to drag all of us down with you."

"Well, you know what Blaine? Fuck you!" Sam slammed the glasses on the counter. "I'm so sick of your self-righteous crap. I take care of her and Artie and this place. Where are you? If you and your uptight ass want to be a better influence then  _be here_." The double door slam was his only reply.

Tina popped up eying him blearily, "The fuck was that?"

"Nothing." Sam fell next to her passing her a glass and turned up the volume.

ooOoo

"Tina?" Blaine knocked thrice before pushing in. Wading through the mess on the floor, he approached the small curled up lump under the covers. "How are you feeling?" His voice dropped to a whisper as she groaned.

"Like death - took a crap - on my head."

How descriptive. "Can I get you anything?"

"Water, OJ…my dignity."

Blaine left returning with two glasses, he placed them on her bedside table nudging her. "Here you go. Water and juice. I can't help you with the third."

She poked out an arm reaching blindly for the glasses, Blaine grabbed one pressing it into her hand before she knocked them both over. Hand and glass disappeared beneath the covers then she slowly emerged like a turtle from its shell. Blaine took a step back as he got a good look at her face. Blotchy and streaked with makeup she looked like a Jackson Pollack but her eyes – her eyes were swollen shut. Could she see at all? Stepping forward he waved in front of her face.

"I can see you." She took another long swallow then gave a very heartfelt, "Thank you."

Blaine perched at the edge of her bed and she scooched over making more room for him. In silence, he traded one glass for another, Tina wrinkling her nose as she chugged the cold orange juice. She looked about twelve - and battling a hangover which was disturbing. "How come you didn't tell me about this guy?" He wondered, leaning back on her headboard stretching out his legs. "Didn't we used to be closer?" He could remember when they used to be best friends, now Tina was closer to Sam and they were living a life he could barely comprehend. Both of them were changing too fast for him to keep up.

"It's impossible to tell you anything when you're never here, and – and when you show up, you're like twelve stories behind. There's never enough time to catch you up."

"Fair enough but 'I'm dating my married boss' should be the first thing you say when I come through the door, heck it deserves a Bat signal all on its own." This was partly his fault; he'd been so happy that she wasn't with Sam that he never asked about her boyfriend. "Did you love him?"

"No, I loved  _having_  him. It's just – he is this big scary guy. He can be loud and arrogant, on one of our dates, he didn't just send the food back, he made the waiter cry, then he forced his way into the kitchen and prepared the meal himself and they let him – " She snuffled. "Yes I know, he's a total asshat but he was never that way with me, he wanted me. I thought that meant something – " She groaned the sound distorted by the pillow pressed to her face. "Hubris, much?"

Blaine patted the pillow awkwardly. "I'm sorry."

"I will be okay after all my tear ducts dry up." She tossed the pillow aside, rallied. "Now it's your turn to spill. What is up with you and Kurt? Before you make up another lame excuse it's pretty obvious that you're miserable and it's becoming toxic." Blaine slipped onto his back her words hitting him hard. "Sweetie…you attacked Sam. You crossed a line. None of this was his fault."

Blaine knew he had acted irrationally. Having a bad day wasn't an excuse. "Was it that bad?" A huge part of him was hoping he hadn't reacted as badly as he remembered. He didn't exactly regret saying what he said. All that stuff had been festering inside of him ever since Sam brought the first girl home but it wasn't ever supposed to come out – not like that. And while he might have fallen asleep with his convictions fired by fury, he woke up empty and a little afraid that he'd driven Sam away especially since Sam had already left presumably with Artie or someone else. It was the worst feeling in the world thinking that Sam was somewhere out there hating him.

"It was a freaking drive-by." Tina confirmed his fears.

"He'll forgive me." Blaine hoped. Sam couldn't hold a grudge to save his life.

"When will you forgive yourself?"

Right! Relationship disaster. They all knew. "It's hard to explain."

"Try."

With a heavy heart, Blaine tried. "I pushed and manipulated Kurt until he took me back. I know he loves me and I used it to sell him this pipe dream about marriage and forever. What can I possibly say to him now?  _I thought I loved you, turns out I was wrong. Good luck with the rest of your life that I wrecked._  I don't get to do that and move on like we never happened. He broke up with Adam for me. All this time and he could have been happy, but Adam's moved on. He's seeing someone else and they are really hot and heavy. NYADA is pretty small…we keep bumping into them…Kurt gets this look on his face every time he sees him…" Sighing, Blaine felt the weight of his shame settle on his shoulders. "The worst part is I'm not even sure why I wanted him back so badly… It used to make sense to me; we were destined to be together forever. Do you have any idea how long forever is because I do…"

Tina squeezed his hand. "So what now?"

He couldn't break up with Kurt not after he'd made such a big deal about them being soulmates. Soulmates! God! How he now hated the idea of it. One perfect person for everyone? What a flawed concept! Was clinging to his sham of a relationship really better than being alone? "I'm going to stay with him for the rest of my life and if I never hear the words 'soul mate' or 'endgame' ever again, it will be too soon."

"Are you serious?" The bed dipped as Tina rolled to her side staring at him with alarm.

Blaine couldn't look at her. Honestly, it was tempting to continue to do nothing and let the relationship dissolve on its own. Kurt would break up with him eventually. And when he did Blaine would move on too. It wasn't like he still lived in a nowhere town in Ohio, this city was teeming with thousands of out and proud gay men. He knew without arrogance or pride that he could meet someone else. He could be happy again even without - Sam.

Much as he wanted him, Sam wasn't an option for him, continuing to pine over him was futile because one of these days one of the many women he continually met would stick. He would fall in love. All Blaine had to look forward to was a lifetime as a sidekick/best friend. He would be the one to stand beside him when he got married, be in the waiting room when he had his first child…an endless cycle of misery, of waiting on the fringes of Sam's life, watching but never participating awaited him if he didn't find somebody else.

"Blaine?" A deeper shade of worry crept into her voice. "You are going to break up with him, right?"

He wanted to tell her that it wasn't that simple. He was struggling with the decision to end his relationship even if it was the right thing to do. Kurt was his first love; he'd planned on him being his last. Now the future was wide open and just a little bit scary. "I will, as soon as I figure out what to say."


	11. Chapter 11

Blaine inspected his face under the dark wig. Even under the harsh fluorescent lighting, he could barely recognize himself in the dark wig. Flipping the heavy braid over his shoulder, he gave a nervous start of laughter as it caught on his pointy rubber ears. He looked ridiculous. Of all the Halloween costumes in the entire world he had to pick this one. It had looked fine in the store and the positively funereal proprietor had assured him it was an authentic representation of the Na'vi people. It damn well better be because he was covered in blue paint and clad in little more than a loincloth. One stiff wind and his testicles would seek refuge in his abdomen. As long as the stupid outfit got Sam to smile and talk to him again, it would be worth the humiliation. He blew out a breath dabbing at his brow carefully so as not to smudge the paint. One last glance in the mirror and he shrugged. It was too late to back out now. The distant sounds of the party happening just outside his bedroom door were getting more raucous.

Rushing out of the bathroom, Blaine checked his phone for the umpteenth time, Kurt hadn't replied. He had sent him a text two hours ago informing him off the party being held in his building, making it seem like the only reason he was sticking around was so his roommates wouldn't completely trash the apartment. There was no reply yet. Thumbing the buttons, he debated whether to call him and give his story more credence. He knew he was stalling. Ever since he'd decided to break up with Kurt, he'd been avoiding him. The one time he tried to talk to him, his throat closed up and he was sure he was having a panic attack. What he wouldn't give to be able to dump him by email? Or status update him. Blaine Anderson is no longer in a relationship with Kurt Hummel. Groaning he crumpled up to his desk chair, he owed him a face to face conversation at the very least, so instead he made a ton of excuses and hid from him. There was no point talking to him until he came up with a rational explanation and until he did, he was wedged in somewhere between a rock and a hard place.

Right now, he made Sam his priority. Getting him to forgive him was all he thought about and much as he hated it, being called uptight had had a hand in propelling him towards this absurd outfit. Dammit! He was fun! Or he used to be fun. These past few weeks hadn't exactly been easy on him. He couldn't just go clubbing and forget all his responsibilities like Sam and Tina who'd been out all night the past four days, always waking him with their loud drunken whispers at 5 am. Aargh! Shoving to his feet, he blew out a breath. He should stop doing that! Sam's opinions were beginning to dictate the way he lived. Obviously, that ship had sailed, he was covered in blue streaks and it was all for him.

Blaine was tugging at the incredibly short hem – it kept riding up when he walked - when Tina stumbled into his room, the initial explosion of sound dimmed as she closed the door behind her. When she got a good look at him, her jaw dropped, "Sweetie?" She choked. "Are you feeling okay?"

"What?" Already extremely self-conscious in his garb, Blaine turned. "Why?"

Approaching him slowly, Tina tittered, "You're… blue and wearing braids. Least now I know why you're so late, that getup cannot have been easy to get into."

Oh well the cat was out of the bag. Spinning, he let her get a good look at him. "What do you think?"

"This is from Avatar, right? Interesting choice. I thought you'd definitely go the superhero route, NightBird." She struck a pose showing off her outfit. "Am I the only one who chose to represent the Superhero club?" Her Asian Persuasion costume had undergone some alteration. Shorter dress, way more cleavage. Sitting on his bed, she mused. "Remember like three years ago when Sam was so obsessed with that movie? He even spoke the language and everything. I'm a nerd but that was a whole other level of nerd. Wait, is _this_ your apology? Because if it is, it is the cutest thing I've ever seen. Are you going to do a little dance? Sing a little song?"

"Yes, okay." Blaine, seeing her smile grow bigger, hurried to nip it in the bud, "No to the singing and dancing. I'm the idiot dressed up as a character from a movie he apparently loved  _three years ago_. I didn't even take that into account. I can't believe how far apart we've grown. Do you know how long it took to realize I didn't know what to get him? Nineteen stores, Tina. Nineteen. It was either this or build him an effing bear. Apology Bear would have worn a tuxedo with a big purple bowtie and a bowler cap." Doffing an imaginary cap, he sat next to her unconcerned about the blue stains he might leave on his dove grey duvet. "It's okay, you can laugh."

"Good god!" She huffed. "Will you stop feeling sorry for yourself? Sam is over it."

This was news to him since Sam had been actively ignoring him. "He is?"

"I'm with him all day, every day. Without breaking his confidence, I guarantee he's no longer mad at you. And you should have gotten that bear. He sounds awesome."

"Thank you." That took a load off. Bumping her knee, he remembered she'd been having issues. "Are you doing okay" You look better – good, I mean."

Preening a little, she smirked. "Put it down to the restorative powers of tequila and its mind numbing goodness." The smacking sounds made him smile. "Come on.  _Let's get it started in heeeere_." She sang.

Blaine pressed his hands over his ears drowning out her enthusiasm. He wanted to 'get it started' but he couldn't relax until he saw his best friend. "Uh – Where -"

"Sam is at Ira and Annie's." At his hesitation, she explained mid tuts. "Man, you are hopeless. They are our neighbors. Go down the hall and turn left. Door's wide open."

"What is he wearing?" Blaine asked. He didn't want to make an even bigger fool of himself ripping masks off of total strangers.

"Oh! You  _cannot_  miss him." With that cryptic message, Tina ducked out.

Blaine shuffled out of his room and into party central. Music so loud the floor was thrumming beneath his feet. Squinting through the flashing strobe lights, he realized he did not know any of the guests. They could have been Artie, Tina or Sam's friends. The mermaid on the couch certainly seemed kind of familiar, so did the Cat Woman dancing on the coffee table, spike heels scuffing the light mahogany. 'Super Fun Blaine' was not going to tell her to get down. Theoretically he knew what was happening, the party system having been explained to him in detail. Everyone on their floor was having a mini party so they had all opened up their doors and turned it into one huge party that spilled out into the hallway and each other's homes. It sounded like a hotbed for criminal activity to him. Can you ever really trust your neighbors and their hippie friends?

Forcing himself out into the hall, he battled the sea of groping, grinding masses, getting tossed from side to side, following Tina's directions. Blaine reminded himself to relax. This was supposed to be fun. He was fun or rather the new  _him_  was planning on being fun like right now. Shoving through unease and doubt he persevered, getting past three inadequate Don Drapers, one of whom locked onto his wrist cornering him.

"Holy Smurf! You are gorgeous." He slurred, breath rank, hands wandering.

The very last thing Blaine needed was to get sexually assaulted by this overgrown, inebriated frat boy. "I am not a  _Smurf_."

"Chill out, Smurfette and learn to take a freaking compliment."

Ripping off his cheap clip on tie, Blaine tossed it to the side and snapped, "Fetch.", at the idiot calling him a Smurf. He'd be the first to admit that he was a little on the short side but Smurf? Seriously! Sparing him no other thought, he found the right apartment. Dark mutterings dying on his lips the second he spotted Sam who was… _For the love of God!..._ He wasnaked or mostly naked.

"Sam…" Trampling a few toes, he reached his side. "What…" Blaine stammered, he couldn't seem to breathe and think at the same time. Up close, the miles of gloriously tan skin was even more tantalizing; he should say something, absolutely anything before his resolve buckled and he touched him. "Are those leaves, Sam? What the hell are you wearing?"

"I'm Adam, as in  _Adam and Eve_." Barefoot Sam elaborated, the welcoming smile slipping off his face. "It was the cheapest costume in the store."

While Sam wasn't entirely naked, moss green briefs peeking out through the silken circle of leaves around his waist with the matching green band on his head. It was still too much for Blaine. Why couldn't he wear clothes like a normal person? "Gee I wonder why. How much could they possibly charge for - foliage?"

Indignant, Sam stepped back flicking the tan garment around Blaine's waist. "Yeah well, nice skirt, Neytiri."

"I did this for  _you_." Blaine shot back. "So I could show you how sorry I was for yelling at you…"

"The way you're yelling at me now? Man, I can't do anything without pissing you off anymore." Dropping his beer onto a nearby table, Sam scooped up another storming out.

"I am not yelling." Blaine chased after him, ducking under the bong being passed overhead. He wasn't really. The yelling was necessary because the music was loud; the phone number scribbled on Sam's chest had nothing to do with his volume or his tone.

Almost catching up to him, Blaine was jostled from the back, tossed onto a massive gorilla, his hands clawing for purchase in the matted fur. Sam rescued him, slipping an arm round his middle steering him down the hall into a relatively quiet nook by the stairwell, his heart was still beating in time to the music but they were out of the way of all the foot traffic.

"Why are you so fucking mad at me all the time?"Sam muttered. "Did I do something? If you don't want me here anymore then you should just say so. I will find another place to live."

Sam was practically on top of him, gazing at him with such bewilderment that Blaine fell back, letting the stucco wall hold him up. "No. I want you." His susceptible mind fueled by his closeness was already filling in the blanks providing visuals, light, color. Shaking his head, Blaine banished his dreams. "Here, I mean – Sam, I want you here."

"Then what is going on with us?"

The easiest answer was one he couldn't share. He couldn't tell him he was jealous of all the girls he was with and how much he envied Sam his freedom to be anyone and go anywhere – do anything. Much as he hated it, their situation was what it was. Blaine wanted to be with him and Sam was with anyone else but him. Not that he could blame him, he was single. Why shouldn't he date or hook up endlessly regardless of what Blaine thought? A silly costume…dressing up for him didn't make any difference. His hand shot up and he ripped the wig off his head and the dumb ears.

"Now you look like a –"

"Don't say Smurf." Blaine warned.

Mimicking turning a lock and throwing away the key, Sam held his silence for a moment before he burst out laughing, breaking the promise just as easily. Blaine wanted to hold on to his pout but Sam was smiling at him making his tummy churn in the best way. It was all he ever wanted. "Do you want to - ? Umm!" Mid sentence he got shouldered aside, some guy getting between them.  _What the hell was happening?_

The tall blonde shoved barely spared him a glance. Blaine was going to ask him to leave but his face lit up when he saw Sam and he pressed up against him, "Hey, was looking for you."

"Charlie!" Sam berated. "Not now!"

Blaine couldn't follow the odd non verbal conversation they were having over his head, couldn't decipher the waggling of eyebrows and jerky head tosses. A blind man could have interpreted the rest. The other man's hand, large and masculine, blunt fingers stroking the dip of his navel, sweeping his abs, moving lips brushing Sam's ear. "Just checking to see if you are still – you know – determined not to return to our previous arrangement." He murmured before throwing them a wide grin. "But I can see you are busy. Later."

Watching his lips move, Blaine could hear what he said but nothing about their interaction made sense. A single nagging thought hammered continually at him. "What was that?"

"Charlie's a friend." Sam dismissed. "It's weird that you've two haven't yet met. He's usually around."

Blaine pointed at the retreating back of the obviously gay Gladiator with the pierced nipples. What was less obvious was Sam's reaction or more importantly his lack of reaction. "He's usually around doing what Sam? Feeling you up?"

Exasperated, Sam swore. "Here we go."

" _Don't do that!_  I'm not overreacting."

"Yes you are. Shit like  _this_  is why no one will tell you anything."

"Tell me what? What are you hiding?" Jumbled thoughts filled his brain making connections that shouldn't exist. It was Sam, his Sam. There was no way he'd started – No – because if he was now hooking up with guys then that meant he was deliberately rejecting  _him_. "Are you and he –" He cleared his throat. "Have you slept with him?"

"No!"

"You've done something. I know you Sam. I – " The slight tremor spilled out of body, filled his voice, teeth chattering. "I know when you're lying to me and you've been doing it – a lot." Hurt oozed out of every pore. He wasn't going to fall apart. He'd been telling himself that they were still close but if Sam shared all his hopes and his dreams, his days with anybody but him then they were nothing.

"Nothing happened with Charlie."

"Was there ever a possibility that it would?" This Charlie person was a guy. And Blaine had seen enough of his body to know that he was a man and not a really butch woman.

"Maybe, I don't know. Stop interrogating me." Sam started to pace. "I've had a very weird month and you should have been here."

"I am here now." Blaine chanced. All this time, knowing Sam was straight was the one thing that was holding him together. He wasn't prepared for this doubt, this hope. "Is it still a - _possibility_?" The word had never been put so suggestively.

"I don't know – I thought – I don't know."

Rocking on his heels, Blaine leaned in; hand planting on hot sleek skin. Need, ferocious and consuming sent his palm skimming up the same path, Charlie's had. Sam hissed, air whistling between clenched teeth. His muscles contracted under Blaine's touch, goose bumps breaking out, nipples pebbling. A flood of courage painted his very being as Sam leaned in as well instead of pulling away. Eyes dropped to his lips, so close. This was it, a sliver of a chance, his door squeaking open.

One chance.

Rising to his toes, their noses bumped, eyes collided. Blaine tilted, slanted his mouth over his, shuddering at the feel of those perfect lips against his. It was a close lipped, chaste kiss, a mere touching of lips but it destroyed his very foundation.

Body screaming for more, he melted, pushing up, desperate, seeking.

It was a small strangled sound that stole his attention; later Blaine would be amazed that he'd heard it at all. But he knew that voice, knew Kurt like he knew himself. His hand fell from Sam's body, desire turning to ash in his mouth. He didn't have to turn around to know he was right there. And he was proven right a second later. He wanted throw accusations, deflect… What was he doing here? He wasn't supposed to be here…to see this… he should have called first. One devastated glance and Kurt was gone. Operating on pure instinct, Blaine went after him, slipping in besides him just as the elevator doors slipped shut.

Running on adrenaline and desperation, Blaine fought for something to say. "Kurt?"

"Don't – don't talk to me." Kurt retreated to a corner, his eyes fixed on the blinking lights counting down to the lobby. "I knew you wanted him. Every time I asked, you looked me right in the eye and you lied until you had me convinced that I was acting crazy, that I was seeing something that wasn't there."

"I am so sorry."

"That's the problem isn't it Blaine? You are always sorry." The loud ding drowned out the painful hitch in his breath. The doors whooshed open and Kurt was several steps ahead before he could convince his legs to move.

"I didn't mean for this to happen." He called out, stopping Kurt in his tracks. He spun facing him, his tears chipping at everything he thought he was.

"My god Blaine! Just admit it so we can both move on with our lives."

There it was, a way out. He had wanted it but not like this. Crossing his arms over his chest, he spat out the truth. "We are not working."

"Was that so hard?" Kurt sniffed turning away.

"I don't want us to end like this." They had been such a huge part of each other's lives. This couldn't be it. "I really hope we can still be friends."

"Friends?" Kurt's laugh was hollow, broken. "Don't you dare, I just caught you lying and cheating on me -  _again_. This is not how you treat your friends. I don't want to see you again. Don't come by. I will send your stuff."

Blaine stood there long after he'd gone. Annihilated by his choices, he didn't want to go back upstairs, seeing Sam after  _this_  felt wrong. So he stood there, his insides matching his outside. Blue.


	12. Chapter 12

Blaine kissed you. Sam shuddered, rocking on his heels. He kissed you. Closing his eyes, he shook his head, hoping to dislodge the stubborn thought but it clung to the inside of his brain rattling around like it had been all night. Hounding him, just like the ghostly imprint of his best friend's lips on his own. Wiping his arm across his lips he tried to think of something else, anything else but those lips, surprisingly soft…

 _He_  kissed  _you_. Dammit!

"Hold still."

Sam's bleary green eyes snapped open on the great Ronan Ash, whose cocked eyebrow conveyed a wealth of irritation. "Oh! Ummm…sorry." Fuck! He wasn't supposed to talk either, much less breathe. Biting down on his bottom lip, he raised his arms from the fraction they'd dropped.

Embarrassment spread in a visible blush down his cheeks and across his chest. He couldn't believe he'd spaced out in the blinding white room filled with people, most of whom were going about their business not paying any attention to the half naked dumb kid in their midst. Goosebumps blossomed on his skin at another blast from the AC and Sam tried to suppress a shiver and hold his pose at the same time.

"Up."

Sam raised his arms over his head at the tap of a pencil on his elbow. He could feel Ronan behind him, hear the rough scratches of pencil on paper as he sketched, hand flying across the page. He could barely believe he was here, having given up on the entire modeling dream until the call had come in for him earlier this morning. Half on, half off the couch he'd jerked awake, snapping out a crabby ''Sup' as he'd rubbed at the crick in his neck. The cultured 'Hello' he'd gotten in return had pushed him to his feet and he rushed to shower and dress, getting downtown in record time only to end up waiting another four hours for Ronan to arrive.

"You allergic to anything?" The same modulated tones inquired.

"No - not that I know of."

A dripping brush appeared out of nowhere leaving a vibrant red stripe on Sam's forearm. "Keep that on for a couple of hours. Let me know if it starts to blister or burn."

Blister? Sam dropped his arms and turned, "Why…" His question trailed off as the other man dropped the brush and strolled off.

"Don't worry. You will get used to that." His assistant, Claire approached him with an amused glance, handing over his clothes. "To answer your question; he's going to paint on you."

"You mean paint me."

"No, I mean paint  _on_  you. You are part of the canvas." She laughed at his expression. "At least that's the plan for now. Ro changes his mind at will, the way his projects start out aren't usually the way they end. It will keep you on your toes for sure."

"So? Does that mean I get the job?" Sam's brow furrowed. The guy he'd met in the club didn't seem like the same guy from today. He'd been prepared to make up for his rude behavior now that it turned out he wasn't a preferential serial killer but all efforts at friendly banter had been rebuffed. "He didn't actually say anything…and he's been calling me Jules, is that bad?"

"Jules is a long story. Don't worry about Ro, his moods are a little – erratic. You're hired." With a small sigh of relief, Sam pulled on his jeans, dressing quickly where he stood, if there was a changing room he hadn't been led to it. "Call me instead if you react to the paint, do not wait until it strips the dermis. The last guy…just call me. I will get him to change the formula." Getting the feeling that it was easier for the aloof artist to change models instead of his mysterious formula, Sam hoped to hell he didn't blister or burn. Now that he'd lost the restaurant job, he couldn't afford to have him rescind his offer.

"Thank you for coming down." Claire continued. "Be sure to keep your cell phone with you. I will let you know when we are ready to start. For your trouble…" Absently, Sam took the envelope she passed him, the 'thank you' spilling out of him. After the night he'd had he'd hoped his day would be less bizarre. Guess that was a tall order. Shrugging into his coat, he left waiting until he was clear of the building to look inside the envelope. Two crisp Benjamins…damn…for two hours work! Okay six hours, including the long waiting period when he'd guzzled enough water to help wake him up and ease the lingering exhaustion from last night. It was still a lot of money to just stand around. This job, he could do.

Exhaustion from his sleepless night hit him and he decided to splurge on a cab just this once. Pouring into the backseat he gave the driver directions, then tilting his head back, he closed his eyes drowning out the sounds and sights of the city. Ever present the same stupid thought snuck to the forefront of his mind. Blaine kissed you. He kissed you and you felt it. So much that you can't stop speculating about what it meant or what it might mean.

Last night felt like a dream, a weird lucid dream. Time had accelerated like they were part of a time lapse video, everything happening too fast for him to process, from Blaine bitching at him to Blaine kissing him to Kurt's arrival. At which point, time had slowed ticking from one horrifying second to the next as Blaine shoved him away to run after his boyfriend then it sped up again, Sam blinked and he was alone. The rest of the night passed in a beery fog, Tina blubbering on about Crazy Chef, Charlie hitting on him at every turn, the small fire in the hallway that he'd put out, his eye constantly on the door waiting for Blaine to come back in. He hadn't. Around 4am he'd passed out on the couch, still waiting, pretending he wasn't until the shrill scream of his ringtone had dragged him from sleep and sent him tearing across town hours ago.

Sam knew he thought better in pairs, he needed someone else to bounce ideas off of because he was almost always wrong about a lot of stuff. Like now, he thought Blaine was still into him which was good but he'd left which was bad. Who was he kidding? Blaine kissed him then went running after Kurt, maybe they'd had a fight and he was just collateral damage. While Tina made a great sounding board, this wasn't the kind of thing he could talk to her about because it violated Blaine's privacy. God, his head hurt just from trying to sort it all out.

Similar thoughts spun round and round with no real answer as he pushed into their apartment. Tina, in an agitated state accosted him at the door. "Dude, when I send you an SOS, I expect a reply -  _immediately_."

Edging around her, Sam peeled off his coat. "Do have any idea how many SOS' you send me a day?" Lately, she was always up in arms about something or other, none of it SOS worthy. "You are abusing the system."

"Granted, I have been a little over enthusiastic lately with the 911 and the 'Poor me's'," Grabbing his shoulder, she twisted, shoved and pointed. "But  _this_ is a genuine emergency."

His eyes snagged. Blaine. Sam inhaled, heart racing like mad. He'd expected Blaine to remain holed up in Bushwick but there he was; nose inches from the coffee table, scrubbing with one hand, a slight frown twisting his mouth as he dowsed the shiny surface again with the spray bottle in his right.

"What the hell is he doing?" He croaked.

"He's cleaning."

"Huh?"

"He's been like this since I got up or should I say since he woke me up. I thought I'd hooked up with some random guy – total freakout by the way - instead it's my good friend Blaine making my bed while  _I'm still in it_." Sam was almost sure that that was an exaggeration. "I tried asking what's going on and he keeps insisting that he's okay. All I'm going to say is no one should use the word 'fine' with such ferocity." She complained. "Except now I feel bad - after I found out that Kurt dumped him. "

"Are you kidding? Kurt dumped him?" Sam hissed, combating relief. He was without a doubt the worst type of person. Last time he'd seen Blaine, he was running after Kurt and when he disappeared, he assumed they had made up and were making 'super-organized' love while he waited for him like a chump. "How did you know?"

"Cunttana stopped by."

"That's harsh."

Tina brushed off his objection to the modified expletive. "You weren't here. Apparently Blaine cheated on Kurt again. Damn, right? Anyway, she brought over a bunch of his stuff, spewed bitch all over him and left. Now he's upped his mode to cleaning in lightning speed. Do something." She entreated; hand on his shoulder. "Sam, I'm unemployed; I never have to get out of bed ever again… and the smell of Pine-Sol in the morning? Big no-no! Talk to him. If you fail then I will tag in again but right now you're it."

Sam lingered in the vestibule, pulse tripping since the mention of Blaine cheating came up. But Tina walked off without another word, slippers swishing as she found refuge in her violated sanctuary leaving the two of them alone. He tried out a lot of openers until he finally found the courage to approach his friend, settling on an innocuous, "Hey."

Blaine's hand paused then resumed polishing in tight concentric circles. "Kurt didn't dump me."

"You heard us."

"We broke up." Blaine continued like he hadn't spoken. "It was a mutual decision. Necessary."

"Okay." Sam plopped next to him, he felt like such a heel for being happy. Elbows braced on his knees, he watched the hypnotic double eights his hands made. "I'm still sorry." He muttered.

"I'm not. Sorry, I mean." Blaine replied then shot him a look so guilty you'd imagine he'd been burying bodies in his backyard. "I'm not happy about the way it ended, obviously but as horrible as it makes me sound, I don't regret it."

"You sure? The party was pretty insane. I can tell Kurt you got roofied or something and you…" Kissed me. Get back on track, fool. "Yeah. I can sell the hell out of it, if you want."

"You want to lie for me?"

It wasn't Sam's first choice. As much as he wanted to talk about what had happened between them, Blaine looked like he'd been through the wringer, it wasn't the best time to demand answers. "Covering for you when stuff like this happens is in the Bestfriend Handbook." Sam rambled on, basically talking to himself for all the response he was getting. "No idea where your copy is, but mine was pretty clear." It wasn't for nothing when Blaine shot him an amused glare. He still seemed like he would come apart at the edges clearly he needed to take a night off, from 'Being Blaine Anderson' and not worry about a thing. Sam could do that for him. "I want you to be happy." He confessed.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. And if you say you're good then I gotta believe you." Sam grabbed onto the hand making the hundredth lap. "Come out with us."

"Where?"

"Does it matter?"

ooOoo

Blaine should have guessed he'd end up in a bar; alcohol was the chosen form of therapy for all college age kids everywhere. He stood at the edge of the sticky floored, packed to the gills bar at 5 in the afternoon.  _Didn't these people have jobs? School?_  He was supposed to be in class as well but these were special circumstances, none of them had just ended an important relationship. Or maybe they had and that's why they were here. "Dogma?" He read the sign hanging over the bar, the logo of the guy peeing into a beer glass was beyond alarming "What do they believe in?"

"Drinking." Lucy quipped from his side, Artie gazing at her with a dopey expression. He'd finally met the elusive Lucy; she was one of those girls whom calling 'hot' was an insult. It diminished her somehow. With short sculpted black hair, gray eyes and a toothy white grin…she was freaking beautiful in a really refreshing way. Even gay he could understand Artie's obsession with her.

"Awesome!" He replied managing not to stare. He didn't want to go home; honestly he was sick of being alone with his thoughts. His roommates were here. Sam was here…somewhere picking up some stuff that they needed for something. He wasn't sure what was happening but they, like the rest of the crowd were very excited.

When Sam showed with large numbers drawn on adhesive stickers, with the club logo next to 'Drinkathon' he wanted to run. Club games? Really? Drinking to excess had never worked out for him. Inevitably he woke up have done something so stupid that it required days of endless apology. Bar stool digging into his back, Blaine fought the urge to flee and not look back. At least the bar was well ventilated; he picked out three separate exits just in case. And after watching the news report of the club that burned down in Brazil, if there were any pyrotechnics, he was so out of there.

"Hey," Sam nudged him. "You are looking a little runway bride-y. You don't wanna go? Do you? Before you answer that, let me just say that you can go back home and cry in the shower or whatever, either way I guarantee – if you stay – I promise you will not think about Kurt for the next couple of hours."

"I'm good." Blaine promised, basking in his concern.

"Cool."

"I've got the Drink and draw and the final challenge. Tina?" Sam asked.

"I'm all over the quiz."

"Blaine, you're up first. You got the 'Chug, bob, shoot, bob, chug'." Sam instructed.

His dark head swiveled back and forth. "I - uh got the - what now?"

Sam pointed at the starting point that was lined with six separate rows of frothing beer mugs. "You chug the beer, run" He mapped out the route that led to a bucket of bouncing apples, "Bob. Run back. Drop the apple. Shoot – I think you're good that looks like Jager –" He pointed at the twelve inky shots lined up at the other end of the room.

"Hope its Jager."Tina interjected. Sam gave her a threatening look. "What? I was totes robbed last month."

"Then bob for the second apple, drop it at the finish line and chug the final glass."

WHAT? "Is that it?"

"Yes. And if you could do it faster than the other five guys…that would be great."

"But…" Blaine swallowed his automatic hair related complaint. Dunking his head in a bucket would release the Kracken. Patting it, he mentally said goodbye to looking half way civilized.

"You in?" Sam queried.

Blaine nodded, going all in. "Why not?" How hard could it be? Liquid meet throat. He'd been drinking since forever. This could be fun, incredibly moronic, potentially dangerous fun.

He took his place. All he could hear from the starting line was the endless chanting. It fueled his competitive spirit reminding him how much he liked to win. His heart raced in time as he sped from one spot to another. The first mug was easy so was the bobbing, since he committed fully and went after that apple like a killer whale after a baby seal. "Those were not – schnapps." He gasped, as the inky black sludge, snaked down his throat setting it on fire. Bursting through the finish line, he scrambled for Artie's water bottle chugging the lot. "That was not Jager!" He repeated, none of them paid him any attention, too busy jumping all over him because he'd won. Olympic medalists had never been so lauded.

"What did I win?"

"Shots." They screamed. It was just the first leg of the competition after all but suddenly Blaine really wanted the trophy even of it was made entirely of bottle caps.

He followed Sam to the bar to claim his 'prize'. As the big burly guy in the tight t-shirt was filling their glasses up with Sambuca and setting them on fire, an act that should have been immediately red flagged if he hadn't been arrested by Sam's profile wondering what he was thinking, if he was thinking about them. "About last night…" He ventured, the words he was considering refused to spill out his mouth so he just stood there, finger playing in a ring of water hoping Sam would fill in the blanks, dismiss the kiss or give him the green light, anything.

He waited, noise receding until it felt like they were the last two people in Manhattan, Blaine able to hear his sharp intake of breath just before he turned."It's okay." Sam shrugged. "We don't have to do this right now. When you're ready to talk about it, then we'll talk about it." He gave him the sweetest smile. "I'm not going anywhere." He finished passing him the rectangular tray with the wooden grooves and flaming glasses, a peace offering or a promise. Blaine didn't care which. He'd kissed his best friend and he hadn't run away, hadn't rejected him. Sam was still here. They were okay. It was enough - for now.

This Sam/Kurt thing had been weighing on him for a while and it felt good to not deal with it, at least not for tonight. Blaine felt good, happy, giddy probably the alcohol or maybe, just maybe…it was all him finally tossing off the shackles of a toxic relationship. Tonight, he was all alone. He was single. He was free. It was his freaking independence day and once he got past the guilt, he felt incredible. Back at their booth, he raised the tiny shot glass, toasted his friends, and Lucy who was very nice and tossed down the vile concoction. Tina's whoop damn near shattered his ear drum but he didn't care. His new favorite song was playing and he felt like dancing. He felt like -

ooOoo

Dawn was breaking, when Blaine opened his eyes, coming suddenly jarringly awake. The world was half way between sleep and wakefulness, belief was suspended and he'd apparently gone through a looking glass where anything was possible. Blinking in the semi dark, he tried to find his bearings. A heavy arm lay slack against his waist, face mashed on his shoulder blade. For a moment he thought it was all a dream, panic manifesting then dissipating as his vision cleared enough to make out the Tardis Paperweight on the bedside table. Peeking over his shoulder, he tensed up suddenly aware that he was in Sam's bed…with Sam. No memory of how he got there. A furtive check showed he was fully clothed; his belts buckle digging into his belly, one foot still imprisoned by a cotton sock so he hadn't decided to assault his fantasy in the middle of the night.

Wriggling out from under Sam, Blaine fled to the bathroom, pupils dilating as he flipped the light switch. The scrape of his jaw was loud echoing off the blue tile, only eclipsed as he emptied his bladder. Popping open the mirror he fished out mouthwash, rinsing and repeating. He felt good, really good for someone who'd been downing shots…he felt great. Oh! Oh! The last time he'd felt this good after drinking that much…he'd puked…a lot. "Oh god!" He groaned as he made a vivid connection between large blue Converse sneakers and partially digested Linguini. "Fudge!" He'd thrown up on him. Great! Just great! He needed to sneak back into his own room and slowly, quietly kill himself. The loud creaking of the bedroom door foiled his escape.

"Blaine?" Sam sat up a dark shadow against the illuminated curtains. "You alright?" Unable to clearly see his face, he could still hear the concern in his voice. It pulled him back towards the bed.

"I'm so sorry about your shoes." Sam probably brought him in here so he wouldn't choke on vomit and die in his sleep.

"Don't worry about it. 'Sides you missed – mostly!"

Blaine stalled toeing the carpet, Sam wasn't kicking him out and he did not want to leave. "I can't remember a thing. Did we win?" He whispered, the dark warm space making the innocent conversation strangely intimate.

Sam snorted, collapsing onto his back. "Third place. We won two free pitchers every Friday for a month."

"Third place?" Blaine crawled onto the bed, "We'll totally win next month."

"Are you planning on sticking around?"

"Yeah." Sliding down onto his back, Blaine plumped up a pillow, curling onto his side. All that lay between them was distance then he wasn't sure which one of them moved first but they were pressed up against each other. Sam's palm rested on his belly, fingers burning sporadic patterns through his shirt and into his skin.

"Sleep." Sam ordered, the words coming out in a soft breath near his ear. "We've got Lucy's thing later."

Sleep? How could he  _sleep_? Reality and fantasy had taken one form merging better that he'd hoped. How could he merely sleep?

He wanted to ask but he would get the same answer, wouldn't he? As long as it was fun, did it matter?

Blaine closed his eyes. He was good. For now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The club events are based on the drinkathon at my local bar/ home away from home.


	13. Chapter 13

Sam sank from his elbows, flipping slowly to his side, trying not to wake the man still sleeping beside him, succeeding when Blaine merely mumbled, rolled over and pulled the covers up to his chin. Breathing easy, he lay there like he'd been for the past hour trying to wrap his mind around this whole thing happening between them. It had been a lot easier to handle last night while they were still in the safe friendzone, drunk and surrounded by people. Now it was quiet, just the two of them…alone.

Head turned to the side; he studied the play of light over Blaine's face. Even partially mooshed into the pillow, lines etched into his skin from folds in fabric, he was still beautiful. A short breathy laugh escaped him. Beautiful! Fuck! What was happening to him? And Blaine would hate being called beautiful, he wasn't a girl. Of its own volition, his hand lifted tracing the curve of Blaine's cheek, dancing over his face in ghostly little touches that zinged up his arm bringing long dormant feelings to life. Sharp newly forming bristles covered his jaw. He was definitely all man…and part Ewok or something, now that his usually tame mane had exploded in all its furious glory. Sam tugged at one dark coil, fat and luscious; it sprung from his grasp rejoining its errant siblings. Blaine looked relaxed, better than he had in weeks; it was probably wishful thinking on his part. He wanted so badly to believe that he was and always had been good for him. Marveling at the wonderful weirdness of this situation, he struggled with the desire to shake him awake, just so he could look into his eyes. Funny that he'd always touched him, never stopping to think what it might mean. In the past he'd put it down to his being a tactile person, his family expressed affection physically, it was learned behavior - now there were these 'what if's' floating all over the place, challenging everything he'd believed.

Clenching his fist, Sam withdrew. The bed sharing had definitely been a bad idea. He now knew too much about him - the rise and fall of Blaine's chest as he breathed, that he talked in his sleep; an endless incomplete ramble of words and half sentences that made no sense except for Kurt's name and that he hogged the covers  _and_  the pillows – terribly intimate things couples knew about each other.  _They_  weren't a couple. A plethora of feelings were flying at him, too much too fast and a more cautious guy than him would put the brakes on, think about everything, sift, weigh, make a pro and con list but Sam liked to go with his gut. This felt right so it had to be right.

The sharp knock at the door shattered the cozy blanket of silence, Blaine's lashes fluttering and Sam rolled to his feet dashing across the room, stopping Tina before she came in. Stepping in front of her, he forced her back out closing the door behind him.

"Why are you acting weird?" She asked, glancing at his doorway like she could see straight through to the interior.

Emotionally replete and on edge, Sam's hand tightened on the knob as he heard his bed creak. "I'm not acting weird."

"Oh! Someone's being protective." She grinned, crossing her arms across her chest. "Who's the lucky bachelorette?"

"There's no bachelorette." Sam evaded. Technically that was not a lie even if it was the first untruth he'd told her since they started hanging out.

"Uh huh!"

Studying her disbelief, Sam sagged to the side, shoulder slamming into punishing wood. "Can we talk later?"

"Sure thing." She slanted him a look and a reprieve he knew wouldn't last long. "Have you seen Blaine?"

"I'll find him," He improvised, "and we will catch up with you guys. Okay?"

"Don't be late." Tina stalked off slipping in one final warning. "If you're late, Lucy won't be happy and if Lucy's unhappy…"

Nodding, Sam finished. "…then Artie's unhappy. I know." Which would mean no one was happy because an unhappy Artie would lecture them for hours if they crossed his lady love.

Turning the knob, he slipped inside, re-entering to a very awake Blaine. Swinging his legs off the bed the other man perched on the very edge, bare feet drumming on the floorboard in an unconscious rhythm. He seemed adorably flustered. Flashing him an awkward smile, his hand flew up to his hair tugging at the clumps trying to detangle the nest. "Morning." He said then peeked over his shoulder at the drawn curtains, rays of light speared through the gaps turning his eyes to shards of amber. "Afternoon? How long have I been asleep?"

"It's way past 3." Sam's gaze darted over his eyes, cheekbones and down to his mouth before locking back on his eyes. "It's not –"

"I should – " They both laughed as they spoke at the same time, short and sweet before stuttering into a long lumbering silence. It had all the awkwardness of a morning after with none of the reward.

"I desperately need a shower," Blaine picked at his clothes. "And I'm starving. Are you hungry? I could eat a horse, not an actual horse," He rambled. "Burger King's tainted meat scandals aside, I wanted a horse when I was a kid, I had picked one out and everything but then Cooper pulled another crazy stunt and got suspended from school again and my parents always got insanely strict when that happened and their regulations clamped down on their one good son…"

"Blaine?" Sam interrupted his nervous sputter and it died out. Tension levels ratcheted up until he could barely breathe. One of them had to move first. Sam pushed off the jamb, Blaine shooting to his feet at this action, eyes huge in his face.

"I'm going to - um - go do all of that 'shower horse stuff' right now." Skirting round him, Blaine headed for the door and ducked out.

"Well, that went well." Sam's voice sank to a hoarse whisper. He made his way across the room, sinking into the dent Blaine's body had made. The painted on blood red swathe on his forearm caught his eye. He'd forgotten it was there. His finger nail scraped against his arm, the blunt edge exposing a blemish free skin underneath as crimson flakes floated to his lap. A quick flick chased them to the floor, it was one load off his mind and he reached over for his phone sending a short text to Claire to let her know he was okay and ready to start whenever Ronan was.

Blaine startled him, popping back into his doorway, "What are we doing later?" His eyes darted all over the place. "You said something about Lucy? She has a thing? What kinda thing?"

Sam grinned, so fucking relieved that he'd come back. "She wrote and directed a movie for college. It is a collection of first time conversations, each one's about four minutes long." He recited, giving him just the bare bones version. "You know like a father and a daughter he abandoned meeting for the first time. Stuff like that, super emotional."

"So…we are previewing her reel?"

Huh? "Sorta. You wanna come?"

Fidgeting slightly, Blaine looked expectantly at him. "Yes? I mean yes. I want to."

ooOoo

Blaine hopped over a tangled coil of wiring. Eyes darted up as he checked out the realistic looking set. Four thin plywood walls strengthened the illusion of a modern café so much that when he looked up he expected to find a ceiling. "Wait up! Are we  _in_  the movie? Sam?"

"Not front and centre." Sam grabbed his hand, leading him round a couple of guys arguing about lighting. "Lucy needed bodies to feel this scene so I signed us up." He gave him a frown. "You were psyched about it last night."

"I was?" Blaine had tried all day but the memories of last night's activities danced firmly out of reach and he desperately hoped that the vague cringe-worthy snippets he did remember were a figment of his imagination.

"It's no big deal; we are extras, window dressing."

"Is that a polite way of saying we get to sit around and do nothing?"

"You know, there are other parts beside the lead, right?" Sam shot him a teasing glance steering him to a small table for two set in the back.

Ignoring the flare of heat in his belly from their joined palms, Blaine focused on his words. "Why would anyone want to be in the background?" He challenged, and then winced, both from his words and the glare from a misdirected spotlight. "Sorry, I'm just used to…"

"Taking the lead, being in charge, having all the solos…"

Put that way, it made him sound like an asshole. "For the record, I have been willing to give up the lead several times."

"Dude, I'm not judging you. I know exactly who you are and I don't need you to change but so you know Lucy is a female you. She's a sweet girl and everything but if you fuck with her movie she will put your junk in her purse."

Blaine sank onto the tiny chair waving at Tina and Artie who occupied another table. "Sounds painful." Across the room, he watched the pretty dark haired girl giving orders to a bunch of guys who were scurrying about carrying out her bidding. She reeked of unapologetic talent, an unrepentant Admiral fully in charge of her fleet. That couldn't be how Sam saw him because the last time he'd been that sure of himself had been with the Warblers. Pre McKinley…pre Kurt! A tiny crack snaked through the paper thin veneer he'd been carrying round for the last few months revealing a soft gooey absolutely terrified interior.

Swallowing past the lump of panic in his throat, Blaine's mind continued to race spanning months, years, calculating wasted time. The polite smile froze on his face. What had his life turned into? A desperate soul sucking relationship, regret for all he'd lost, fear of a relationship he wanted. He'd fallen in love, made sacrifices to keep that love, held a bit of himself back so Kurt could shine. How had compromising over the role of Tony led to this? Was that even when it had begun? Was that when he'd turned into a titan of concession?

Dodging Sam's concerned gaze, he moved. The weight of the world slipped on his shoulders, crashing his spine. Atlas he wasn't. Smile slipping, head spinning. Shoving to his feet, Blaine found the nearest exit spilling out into the cool welcoming night. Disoriented, manic he grappled with his decisions to give up his dreams to follow Kurt from Dalton to McKinley then to New York; did he even want to be here? In New York? At NYADA? Chilled to the bone, he cupped his freezing palms to his face blowing on the frozen tips. Grief meandered slowly through his veins setting fire to all he'd known, torching his very being.

He wondered about power, the strangeness of it; realizing it didn't always get wrested from your hands sometimes you just gave it away, like it was nothing, like there was enough to go around until you found yourself years later gasping in an alley, struggling for breath, unable to remember who you were.

"Blaine?" Sam's voice came to him from a great distance redirecting his crazy, a lightning rod tethering him back to reality.

Jerking to a halt, he swiped his hands across his face, "I'm okay." The automatic reply leaving him in piteous little gasps enraged him. He always said that, always did that, ever the peacemaker he spent so much time toeing the line, being nice. For what? Who exactly was he playing this charade out for? Fuck it! He spun snarling, "I am  _not_  okay.  _I am. Not. Okay_."

"I know." His face in shadow, the kindness and compassion in Sam's voice wrecked him all over again.

Before he could speak, Artie sped out, Tina right on his tail. ""The fuck, you guys, they are about to start shooting. Get your butts back in those seats."

"Don't." She said, holding on tight to a plastic handlebar keeping the wheelchair from rolling any further. "I know that look. It just hit him."

Mentally checking off his trapped list Blaine nodded. Panic. Check. Desire to escape. Check. Pain he could barely process.  _Check!_  Yeah, he was right on target. All the pressure of the last few months built up until he was choking from the wrongness of it, wracked because he'd taken action too late. He wanted to scream and hit something. It wasn't the breakup. It was everything he'd lost because he was too busy trying to maintain a status quo that had been dead for months. He'd given up everything, Kurt had gotten his pound of flesh and he had lost but he wouldn't give him five more minutes of his time, wouldn't spend another second mourning bad decisions. There was only one way, forward. He might not be able to turn back time but he could rebuild the relationships he'd damaged. Be the man he knew he was.

Blaine stood still, chest heaving, blood slowing, rage and pain leaving him with a disgruntled huff. His shoulders sagged and he breathed, coming fully and completely awake.

"I shouldn't have dragged you into my drama with Kurt." He said to Sam; his golden haired, cagey but consistently sweet prince. Fanciful though that might be, he couldn't deny that his life had turned into an anti – fairytale. It was Sleeping Beauty in reverse. One kiss and he'd woken to a nightmare. "I shouldn't have kissed you. You trusted me and I screwed up. I'm so sorry."

Tina's "Whaaaaaaaaat!" was only dwarfed by the shrieking of tires as Artie burnt rubber to reach their side. "He kissed you and you didn't tell me?" She quizzed Sam looking incredibly hurt. "What the F?"

Sam stepped in front of him shielding him from their prying eyes and intrusive questions. "Tina, go back inside." He ordered, "Artie, stall for a couple of minutes. We'll be back soon." They headed back inside leaving one lone witness for his meltdown.

"Don't apologize for kissing me." Sam stepped forward tentative, careful, like he was coaxing a wounded animal into the light. "I don't regret it."

It wasn't necessary, apart from an insane desire to laugh. Blaine was fine. His wounds were knitting over, in time he'd come fully into his own.

"What do you need? How can I help?" His outsides must not have yet caught up with his insides because Sam was still looking at him like he was falling apart. "What do you want - right now?"

This question started a tiny spark, a scrappy little thing that scrabbled and grew, evolving into a hopeful blaze in under a minute. "I-I-"Blaine's ability to make demands, emotional or otherwise was crusty from underuse.

"What do you want?" Sam repeated, words sprinkled with frustrated overtones. Blaine felt like he was trying to ask him something else, he was missing some underlying meaning fraught with promise that was eluding him.

"I want -  _the impossible_." At the tail end of this statement, Blaine shook his head. This – mewling, pathetic creature wasn't the real him. He was stronger than this, better. Sam wasn't going to leave him. However else he may have felt about Blaine's feelings, he'd proven on more than one occasion that he didn't find him repugnant. He did not regret their kiss. A raw burst of confidence surged through him and he stepped forward. "I want to kiss you again. It's all I think about."

"Oh!" A little smile tugged the corner of Sam's mouth. "Okay."

Fire tore through Blaine's lungs, expelled in harsh gasps. Of all the answers, evasions and kindly let downs, he'd expected this was not in the same vicinity. " _Okay?_  Sam, you are really cool about  _a lot_  of things but I can't let it get into my head that it's okay for me to kiss you all the time." If he started, he might never stop. Blaine backed up putting some distance between them. It would have helped if not for every step he took back, Sam took one forward then twice at the end leaving only a sliver of space between them.

"Why not?" His fierce whisper echoed off the dank alley walls.

Back against a wall, Blaine blinked,  _why not?_  Sam raised his hand and slid it across his jaw decimating his very thought process. "Think about what you're saying." He swallowed, rational arguments stumbling and falling before the infernal stroking. Anticipation shimmered through him as his brain finally grasped the most important one, "Sam, you are  _not_ gay."

"I haven't figured  _everything_  out." Sam's eyes chased the working of his fingers, fanning out on his chin, a rogue thumb tugging at his bottom lip "But - I know that you kissed me. I know that I can't stop thinking about it either and I  _know_  that I want to do it again. What more do I need?"

Blaine tossed his head back, lip tingling, desire crawling up his throat dancing on his tongue. Desperation rocked through him, his hand slipped up fisting the fabric of Sam's checkered shirt, the heat pouring off his body, searing. He wanted him, always had. Still he hesitated. One kiss could be easily filed away as a frustrated mistake, a second kiss signaled purpose, promise. There would be no going back for one of them.

"God! You think too much." Sam uttered with a rough groan. Dipping down, fluid, intent he captured Blaine's mouth in a slow, easy kiss.  _Jesus._ He moaned at the first touch of their lips, his heart hammered, time stopped and he fell into him. A hoarse needy moan poured out of him. Lips trembling, he increased the pressure of the kiss, sliding the tip of his tongue across Sam's plump lower lip. As good as he thought their first kiss had been this was magnified by a thousand, pleasure exploding on his nerve endings until he was rubbing up on him. Sam was kissing him back. Breathless with wonder, his hands skimmed down his sides over the broad shoulders to the lean abdomen, learning him.

"God…" His mate whispered into the warm, moist opening of his mouth. His big hands slid up along his waist; thumbs searching, exploring the foreign landscape of his body. He tore from his lips laughing.

"What?" Blaine murmured into his soft laugh.

"Its – you." Sam stole another kiss, hot and urgent then he smiled again.

Blaine had no idea what that meant but it felt amazing being this close to him. Sam scattering soft kisses on his brow, tilting his face back to attack his lips again, voracious in his exploration.

The throat clearing tore them apart.

"There are my elusive extras." Lucy pronounced, taking mincing delicate steps that belied the steel in her tone. "Sam, Blaine," She turned from one then to the other. "From what Artie has told me, you two are in the middle of some epic romance and I've gotta say, I cannot wait to see it play out but if you walk off the set again or steal focus from my leads in any way. I will kill you both. Okay?"

"Okay." They nodded intimidated by the saccharine sweet smile pointed their way. Following her back inside, they took their seats Artie giving them a shameless shrug. He'd probably ratted them out.

Sam leaned in and whispered. "Feels like detention." Blaine chuckled, hearing his very thought mirrored in his friend. Then his breath caught as their knees touched under the table. It was a beginning. For once he didn't want to flip the book to the last page so he could make absolutely sure they ended up together. He wanted to enjoy this, enjoy him for however long it lasted.


	14. Chapter 14

Too busy counting off the mini freakouts that continued to ricochet through him like aftershocks post a major earthquake; Blaine drifted in and out of a major portion of the evening. It was only Lucy's yelled, 'Wrap!" that jerked him out of his deliberation forcing him to engage in conversation with the motley crew of fast talking, gesticulating, and overly demonstrative film students that stopped by their table. Tucked away in the back, Sam leaned on the fragile furniture and introduced him to each and every one until their names and faces congealed together into one indistinguishable lump. Nodding and smiling, Blaine held up his end of the conversation with considerable effort, taking little peeks at Sam's languid pose trying to figure out what was going on in his head.

It was so not fair. On the surface the other boy appeared unruffled chatting easily unlike Blaine whose basic emotional composition demanded that he overanalyze everything. They had kissed. Why wasn't he freaking out? Blaine was. Not as much as he had earlier but… _they had kissed_.

He could feel a light headache starting to form at the running commentary in his head, his fingers swept up to ground zero starting up a twisty massage, quickly unraveling the forming knots. He groaned at the slight easing, nearly jumping out of his skin when a big calloused hand gripped his wrist. A small smile quirked Blaine's lips as he stared unseeing at the prattling crowd, transfixed by the long line of heat pressed up against his left side. His hand flexed, buzzing from the graze on palm on palm as Sam interlocked their fingers and held onto him.

Sam had no compunction about touching him so Blaine decided to take his blasé attitude for the gift that it was. As long as Sam was fine, he was too. It made a twisted kind of logic but he was sticking with it. He'd just gotten exactly what he'd always wanted so he was going to fly past this tricky uncertain part and get to the cake having and the cake eating and the too. When Sam smiled down at him, Blaine returned it his gaze dropping from his eyes back to his lips. Quite frankly the sooner they got to the fun part of this evening the better.

_Whoa! Down boy!_

He wasn't going to sleep with him before they'd had a first date. Sure tonight reeked with romantic intent. The whole night had 'date' written all over it and he wouldn't let anyone tell him otherwise. They had had a prearranged agreement, were engaging in a slightly unconventional activity amidst kissing and handholding that left him both nervous and excited, his heart attempting to hammer its way out of his chest. At the very least, he was in the middle of date-like activity, the dreaded group-hang. A revelation made insignificant in the face of far more pressing matters like,  _did it call for some light making out? Some over the clothes action? Shirts off? Was there a safe nonjudgmental line between slut and tease that he could toe?_

Blaine stifled a groan resisting the urge to hang his head. For the love of all that was holy! He felt fifteen again. His libido roused and raring to go, whispered an endless stream of _gimmegimmegimme_  interspersed with pornographic visuals of all the downright filthy things he could do with that mouth. Shuddering, he bit down hard on his bottom lip, the pinprick of pain distracting him, calming him. He wasn't a prude and the virgin panic made no sense, Sam was the newbie he should be the one losing it instead of tossing him a cheeky grin like he could see into his brain. Again not fair. A shaky hand swept over his gelled curls to make sure, Blaine had seen the treacherous mop on his head do several inexplicable things; he wouldn't put it past it - in league with his needy body - to start projecting his thoughts to the world.

He dipped his head and pushed all thought out of his head. Deep breath. Snapping back in, he attempted to follow the conversation Sam was having with the militant girl who flung a vast array of opinions at them with all the single-minded intensity of a Cob Cannon taking down a zombie, something about food trucks and restaurants deregulation. Blaine imagined there would be many many documentaries in her future about government policy and the abuse of power. Usually fascinated by politics, he would have shown a great deal more interest if he hadn't been so focused on Sam who despite his intent listening pose, was obviously bored. Blaine could tell by the tiny flicker of his eyes. Let's gets out of here, they asked, his thumb drumming out the same insistent message on his palm.

He loved this. Having Sam's complete attention was intoxicating. The ping of anxiety that followed it was expected.

Blaine excused himself to the bathroom. The stern talking to and deep breathing exercises left him a little lightheaded and he staggered out to his three roommates in a hushed bargaining that ended when they saw him.

"What's up?" He asked.

Sam paused tugging at his sleeve, a dead giveaway. Blaine could see his brain working trying to come up with an acceptable excuse, then he muttered a far from innocent, "Nothing." He was such a terrible liar. The others followed suit with equally bad 'nothings'. Shaking his head, Blaine let it slide. Obviously he was shielding him like had earlier, it was a sweet and unnecessary gesture but he could hardly fault him for trying.

Turned out Artie didn't want to leave yet and severing his limpet hold on Lucy took a good long while. The look he threw them when they finally left had Blaine wondering if he had at one point confessed to a youth spent torturing kittens. Even crammed into a cab, he could feel the ire pouring off of him. Well he had one pissed off friend at the front, his chair stuffed into the trunk, one extremely nosy and suspiciously quiet friend on the other end, Sam happily jammed in between them. No one was talking. No one. Lots of loud huffy breathing, no actual words.

Blaine was actually grateful for Tina's silence because once she got going to would require herculean effort to shut her up.

Disembarking in the same awkward silence, Blaine hang back Sam falling into step beside him. "What did you say to them?" He whispered, gesturing at their two friends who were now chattering merrily just a few feet ahead.

Sam threw him a funny half-smirk, took his hand and dragged him inside. Blaine picked up the pace as he saw Artie holding the elevator for them. He took a step forward and was yanked to a stop by Sam's grip on his sweater.

"You guys head on up," He announced. "We'll take the – uh next one or the uh –" He craned his neck spotting the discreet door in the corner. "Stairs." He yelled over his shoulder dragging Blaine with him. "We'll take the stairs."

Absolutely mortified, Blaine stumbled after him. Sam might as well have announced their intentions and the calculating smile Tina tossed them burned into his brain with every step. "Sam!" He protested blinking in the sudden fluorescent lighting "You might as well have told them we were going to make out."

"Blaine!" He echoed in the same panicked embarrassed tone, and then slid him a naughty grin. "We live together, the sooner they get used to  _us_  the better." He leaned in arms bracketing Blaine's body. "Second thoughts?"

"No." Blaine jumped in then he flushed. Way to sound eager. "I – I haven't"

With that Sam moaned and kissed him. Blaine tilted his head back and deepened the kiss, his body surging forward without conscious direction, dropping rational thought. All concern about his friends opinions, getting busted by the neighbors on the stairs falling away.

It was a slow torturous climb. Four flights of stairs felt like a thousand. They poured into the apartment as one entity, straining, and Blaine's back throbbing from where he'd slammed into the railing. Outside his door, Sam broke the kiss, but stayed close, his hand stroking down his back, cupping his ass and hitching him in with wordless invitation. Moist breath fanned Blaine's lips.

His chest rose and fell and he felt Sam's steady, unwavering stare. "Do you want to come in?" He asked voice husky with emotion.

"Do you want me to?"

He could barely get his answer out of his tightening throat when Sam flipped it so he nodded. A callused fingertip ran down the length of his neck and back up to stroke over his open, panting mouth. Both hands tangled in blonde hair, forcing their mouths firmly together in a hot dirty kiss. His urgency was met and matched, the door squeaking open. A few short steps and Blaine crashed to his bed, Sam looming over him in the semi dark. He flipped the bedside lamp, eyes locking on the long lean torso as Sam peeled the clothes off his back.

There wasn't an ounce of fat on him anywhere, just sculpted muscles, long thighs, broad hard shoulders, and a long, solid erection thrusting against the soft snug cotton of his jeans. Blaine barely able to take it all in as Sam crawled up his body. Voice silenced by the pressure of his mouth, as he arched feverishly against him nails digging into his back.

He could feel him tense up, his mouth drawing in a tortured gasp of air. Hands pinning him to the mattress while his mouth moved feverishly against his skin, devouring the roughness of his throat and then moving downwards.

"Stop." Blaine gasped, tearing away. This was fast, really fast. "We should talk – first."

Sam froze, hands tightening on his side then he released him and fell to the side. They lay side by side staring at the ceiling, Blaine's mind racing, his body trying valiantly to keep up.  _Did he really just say stop?_  Even if he'd been dropped on his head as a baby it would not justify this insanity. Sitting up he swung a leg over, straddling him. A slow roll of his hips had Sam gritting his teeth.

He grabbed on to his thighs holding him in place. "Talk," He prompted, low and guttural.

Loving the heavy lidded gaze and desperate desire swimming behind it, Blaine laughed leaning over, that was all for him. They could talk much…much later. He traced his lower lip with the edge of his tongue, slipping in to tangle in a slow open-mouthed kiss owning the body shaking beneath his. He trailed kisses over Sam's jaw and down his neck, taking a hard nipple between his teeth and flicking it with his tongue, the resultant throaty groan making him shiver.

"Don't stop." Sam released a breath and with it, a tortured growl. "God, you are so fucking good at that."

What was that tone in his voice? Blaine snapped up. "Is that surprise? Why would you be surprised?"

"Okay, okay – um – okay." Sam rose, propping on his elbows, Blaine trying not to be distracted by the tousled hair and kiss swollen lips which were in the process of insulting him. "You are - ah -  _very_  organized and you hate mess. And with like your schedules and stuff…" He excused rather lamely, wincing. "Not like in a bad way. It's just that hand sanitizer and sex don't really go together."

 _Hand sanitizer?_  That made zero sense. He hardly qualified as a germophobe. "You assumed I was bad in bed because I like having clean hands? Those two things aren't even connected"

"Not  _bad_." His brow shot up, thick and challenging. "More -  _sanitary_."

Blaine snapped rolling off of him. Sam followed, "Blaineblaineblaine." falling out of him in a desperate litany. He soon had him on his back, a thigh slipping between his spread legs.

"I am sorry. You are the makeout king." Sam attacked his neck with hot biting kisses, and then he jerked back. "Dude," He whined. "You have to participate, I'm flying blind here."

Blaine bit down on his lower lip suppressing moans determined to torture him for a bit then give in, but one low moan slipped out, Sam's triumphant chuckle rippling on his belly.

Bastard.

It had never been like this, this soul wrenching or this fun.

Then Blaine frowned. "Don't call me dude." Between their first kiss and their second, they had exited the 'dude' place and ended up on unfamiliar ground. He wasn't exactly sure where they were but all the 'making out' eradicated the 'dude'.

"Whatever you want," Sam moaned into his shoulder, his hips jerking all on their own in a slow loose rhythm that had his brain scrambling, he threw a leg over his waist thrusting back up into him, mind shattering. So good. They moved together, incredible sensations blazing through him until he drowned under the flame, coming in his pants.

Rational thought slunk back in as they parted. Sam heading to his room to change, similar stains painting the inside of his jeans as Blaine dashed to the shower cleaning up in record time beating back all the questions that were now demanding answers. He was still mid debate when Sam came back in and slipped in beside him. Blaine breathed, relaxed. He couldn't think around him. Scooting over, he made more room for him. His friend smelled good, like lemongrass, his skin cool to the touch. Blaine wasn't much of a traditional cuddler, no spooning for him because he was more comfortable on his back than on his side. Sam curled up next to him, his hand slipping under his vest stroking his belly, playing with the tiny whorls of his treasure trail his face buried in the curve of his neck. Blaine smiled faintly and drifted off.

ooOoo

"You kicked me." Blaine grumbled as they left his room. It was their third start of the day and the furthest they'd managed to make it out of his room since they woke up. He'd changed his pj's thrice last night - Sam waking him every couple of hours with his wandering hands and tempting lips - and been forced to resort to boxers after the last time he'd come.

"Dude, you kicked  _me_ ," Sam countered. " _Then_  you kicked yourself. Then you woke up and gave me that look."

"What look?"

"This look." Sam scrunched up his face looking incredibly disgruntled. "The whole serene Zen master thing you have going on when the sun's out, disappears the second you close your eyes. It's like being in a war zone and I'm fighting for my life with a chatty super villain from those old Kungfu movies."

"I was talking in my sleep? About what?"

"Kurt."

 _Oh!_ Blaine stopped, looking up at Sam whose face was clear of all emotion.  _He was talking about Kurt in his sleep? Kurt wasn't even here and he was still ruining his life._ Was he mad? In bed with the new boyfriend and mumbling about the ex was bad form. _Were they boyfriends?_ They hadn't really talked; the touching had seemed a lot more important last night."I didn't know that I was doing that." In all fairness, he'd been under a great deal of stress the past few months, maybe his mind was trying to process his troubled emotional state in his sleeping hours when he was less guarded.

"You guys were together a long time. He's probably still in your head somewhere." Sam shrugged his hand brushing Blaine's shoulder in a reassuring way. "It's probably my fault anyway because I wanted it."

"Wanted what?"

"The two of you to break up. Ever since you started talking about marriage and going ring shopping, I wanted you to break up." He confessed. "Now you have and you're still talking about him because of course that happened."

It was emotional and declarative, elevating last night from a possible one night stand, comfort sex, pity sex and all the various casual interpretations of last night into something more. "Kurt isn't anything to me anymore." Blaine stated, putting enough emphasis in his words so that Sam would believe him. That part of his life was over. Especially since he had firmly killed any hope that they'd remain friends. Blaine shook his head, with a stern reminder, 'No more regrets.' Then he rounded to the niggling thought. "And don't call me dude."

"Darling?"

Sam used an exaggerated drawl that made him snort. "Hell no. You can't pull off darling without sounding like you escaped from the Downton Abbey set."

"Admit it, I'm adorable," Sam insisted. "I can pull off anything. It's my most awesome quality."

"I think you mean adorkable."

"Oh so you wanna play.

Their flirty banter was interrupted by Sam's blaring ringtone and he run back to get it, Blaine making his way to the kitchen. The twin stares from his other roommates wiped the smile off his face. "Morning." He uttered. Right in the middle of taking two bowls down from the cabinets, Tina started to sing.

" _My milkshake brings all the boys in the yard and they're like it's better than yours._ "

He spun round, ceramic heavy in his hands and she tossed him a sly wink. "Morning, sweetie" She chirped. He could see the fake all over her face, it was written in the careless way she tossed the Cosmo aside. Just a prop in her carefully staged wait. Sam was still in his room. There was no help coming from that quarter. Guess his grace period was over.

"Stop it." He warned.

"Stop what?" Big eyes, hand on chest. "The deal was for eight hours," Tina defended. "It's been eight hours. I'm just offering my support which I wasn't allowed to do last night."

"Your restraint is admirable." Artie needled. "You can thank me for keeping her from bursting in on you three hours ago."

"It was worth the wait. That was quite a show you put on." She rounded the island, moaning directly in his ear. "Oh, Sam!"

Blaine would have blushed but the blood had drained from his face "I do not sound like that and you can't hear us. Right?" He addressed Artie who was suddenly picking at his pants, looking anywhere but at him. Oh crap!

"For a fancy apartment these walls are nowhere nearly as thick as they should be." She crowed. "It's the greatest thing ever."

Blaine sighed then let it go. The only alternative was to never touch Sam again and that was so not happening, he'd rather suffer through the embarrassment. Or work on being quieter.

Brushing that painful thought aside, he checked out the empty hallway, Sam still on the phone. "You guys haven't told anyone about um -  _us_ , Sam and I, have you?"

"No." They shared a quick glance. "We didn't know if you guys were telling people…or if you wanted to keep it under wraps for awhile."

"Okay. Good. Don't text, tweet, Facebook, PM, IM…" Blaine gasped running out of breath, "You get where I'm going with this, right?" If and when Sam wanted this to get out, he would have to determine the flow of information himself and how soon it reached his friends or his family. Sam was close to his parents, they loved him but Blaine had learned a long time ago that this wasn't the sort of situation in which you could determine how anyone would react; love could only do so much. Social conditioning and expectation held a much greater sway over public opinion.

"Of course man, no worries. I'm taking some downtime from social media." Artie preached. "Lucy says it's ruining one on one communication the same way email ruined the art of letter writing."

Spurred on by his declaration, Tina added dulcetly, "Should you be this pussy-whipped when you aren't even getting any?" She then turned a laser like glare back on Blaine. "Real question is why you're looking at me while you say it? I can control myself."

"Can you? Tina, you have more updates than an attention seeking reality wannabe star. 'Cocoa puffs equals food of the gods #myth #thunder thighs'." Blaine quoted off his phone, looking pointedly at her bowl wherein the last surviving cocoa puffs bobbed in a sea of tepid milk. "I'm reading about you having breakfast while watching you have breakfast."

The wheel chair bound boy chortled at her elbow.

"It's been retweeted four times already so you my newly liberated friend can  _suck it_."

Putting aside his phone, Blaine reached for the massive cereal box by her side filling one bowl, as he went to fill the other, Tina pushed the bowl out of range, steering with her eyes still on her lit screen.

"Sam won't eat it." She waved dismissively ignoring his irritated look. "Oatmeal third cabinet – five retweets ha! - he'll take the Mini Wheats in a pinch."

Oh, she was helping not hurting. Blaine snagged the other box. Unfrosted. Figures. It also explained the 2% milk.

She finally flashed him a knowing look. "You're welcome."

Blaine spotted Sam leaving his room, a wide smile gracing his lips that was immediately returned. It cemented his decision to protect him. They – he needed time. Without prying eyes and unsolicited opinions from every glee clubber not to mention every closeted bigot with internet access that ever went to McKinley High. If Blaine were to be brutally honest, his reasons were also kind of selfish. Sam had chosen to be with him. No coercion on his end whatsoever. Now that he finally had him, he didn't want to lose him. Their relationship was new. Fledgling, not yet ready to be pushed out if the nest. He didn't need anyone getting inside his head telling him they weren't right for each other. Despite their ragging on them, Artie and Tina were supportive, nosy but supportive. They were enough for now.

Blaine knew he wouldn't be able to control the information for long. Eventually, the cork would pop, the dam would burst and flood the villagers but he'd hold on for as long as he could.

"Do you know they could hear us last night?" He whispered as Sam stood beside him, wrapping his arm around him, pressing a kiss on his shoulder.

"Oh yeah," Sam replied unconcerned. "The walls are crazy thin."

" _You didn't think to tell me?"_

"I didn't want to throw you off your game. C'mon, Babybear, focus. I've gotta get my eight hours. So, I either have to sleep right under you or, you know," He tossed a naughty waggle. "Like right on top of you, which I'm really ok with."

" _Babybear?_  No!" Blaine reprimanded stroking his hand across his chest, the smattering of chest hair would seem like a 'pelt' to someone used to breasts. "Not a baby. Certainly not a bear." He would have had more to add but Sam's lips found his, his defense skittering away. A flash went off. Tina. Phone. Squealing. He knew she wouldn't post it which was a huge load off.

"Pumpkin?" He muttered against his lips.

Blaine smiled cutting him off. Despite Artie's assertion, he knew he wasn't in love with Sam but he understood how easily it could happen…how little it could take a - goofy smile, a sweet gesture - to tip him over the edge. Something inside him was stirring and it wouldn't be ignored.


	15. Chapter 15

"Sam?"

The tall blonde jerked hissing as in the split second distraction his hand got too close to the fryer, the malicious beast taking another strip off his fingers. "Sonuvabitch!" Popping the seared flesh into his mouth he rushed over to the sink running his hand under the ice cold water sighing as it provided the minutest relief. That fucking thing got him every time.

"Oh Sammy, I'm sorry." Hannah stood by his side wincing in sympathy. "I shouldn't have yelled."

"S'alright." Sam wiped his hand on his apron flashing his injury at her. "Look, good as new." It was still throbbing something fierce and would mean yet another Band-Aid but since he'd wrangled a few shifts out of her so he could afford to pay for his date tonight without breaking the bank the only emotion he had room for was gratitude. "You need help upfront again?"

"No, you got company. Take a break and take care of that hand." She insisted shooing him out.

Peeping around the corner, he saw Tina occupying one of the booths, idly flipping through the menu. She'd tracked him down like he'd known she would. Yesterday she'd been weirdly silent, tossing him puzzled looks but since Blaine and him had been pretty much attached at the hip they hadn't talked. Grabbing a bribe, he ditched the apron and slid onto the hard shiny leather seat across from her.

"Free curly fries." Sam slid the bag across the table. "They literally have my blood, sweat and tears in them." Her nose scrunched up into her 'eeeuww' face coupled with her slitted glare, it was something fierce. This was ridiculous. She couldn't remain pissed off at him, she didn't know how. "You can't stay mad at me forever. Who will give you details?"

She definitely perked up at that suggestion. "I get details?"

Sam dodged the question. "I thought you were cool with this. You sure were acting happy for us yesterday."

"I wasn't acting." She sniffed, nose in the air oozing affront. "I'm happy for Blaine; it's you I'm mad at. You might not appreciate it as much as I do but you, you massive lump are my best friend. We're bros, the secret combo handshake fistbump type of bros – if we had a secret handshake," She went off tangent. ", I have some ideas, Putting a pin in that for later. Back to the point; you've been keeping stuff from me, do you have any idea how hurtful that is?" Sam tried and failed to get a word in. "Very, very hurtful. I tell you  _everything_."

"You tell me stuff I don't even want to know."

She huffed. "Let's not pretend that you do not want know, you live for my horrifying but cutely bizarre stories. Now you and Blaine are shacking up and getting busy and you didn't tell me." Her loosely clasped fist flew up making an obscene gesture. "On and on and on. All night long."

"Hey, hey, hey!" Sam grabbed her hand the other gesturing wildly at the mostly empty diner like the walls were absorbing her filth. "This is a family restaurant."

"Who are you talking about? Old guy over there?" She pointed at said man who was lifting a steaming cup of coffee to his lips oblivious. "He better be getting some otherwise he's missing out. I know I am."

"T, I'm sorry. I should have told you something was going on with us."

Apparently that's all she needed to hear, because she zigged heading straight for curiosity. "What  _is_  going on with you two? Is this like a love thing? One day you looked him and the sun came out there was a gaggle of angels singing a hallelujah chorus or was it more of a quiet understanding like one of those tragically chaste Mills and Boon novels from the Seventies?"

"You are so full of shit."

"That's not an answer. Are you gay now?"

"I don't know…" What was gay supposed to feel like? He didn't feel any different. They'd fooled around no actual fucking – insert tab A into slot B - had taken place. Sam broke out into a sweat just thinking about it because he wanted it so badly but not because he was with a guy, because he was with Blaine. The attraction was based entirely on him, Sam would still want him if he was a girl or a monkey, no, no, not a monkey, what was wrong with him? This is why he hated thinking about their situation, he went round and round in circles not really getting anywhere. "It is...complicated." Sam drew out. Actually it was more than complicated; Blaine and Kurt had just broken up so technically that made him the rebound guy. A reboundee falling for the rebounder did not make for a happy ending. He'd already learned that the hard way.

"Okay. Don't hurt yourself." Tina patted his arm. It was condescending and comforting all at once. "So - there isn't anyone you wanted to tell about this  _complicated thing?_  Is there?"

Sam frowned for a minute, wracking his brain. It honestly hadn't occurred to him that there was anybody else to share this with. He had become so consumed with the business of getting from one day to the next that he hardly ever thought about high school or the friends he'd had that had scattered to the four corners after graduation. That was his excuse. The fact that they'd all gotten into college and he hadn't might have had something to do with it. While they discussed their majors and dorms and classes, what would be his contribution? His life as a stripper or his life as a waiter? Concentrating on getting through each day and fixating on home was how he coped. Home was his parents and little brother and sister. Home was Blaine, Tina and Artie. Old friendships had disappeared and new ones had formed. It was what it was. "Nah! Blaine's here, you're here. Who else I'm I going to tell?"

"I don't know, maybe Britt?"

Britney. He did miss her sometimes. She was out in the world being awesome and he was the small town boy she left behind. Sometimes he thought he would catch a whiff of her perfume and the images that assailed him were vivid and bittersweet but these incidents were fewer and far between. "We used to talk all the time after she first moved but it's been awhile. She's been busy with MIT and the new boyfriend um Smith Somebody."

"What happened with Hailey?"

"No idea." Britney's twitter updates were inconsistent at best and since she'd tabled 'Fondue for Two', it was increasingly difficult to track her down. Sam only knew about the new fella because she'd left him a rambling drunken voicemail at 4am. "Anyway, I don't think this is the kinda news you call your ex with, sounds like bragging. I'll probably tell Rory. I'm the only one from McKinley he still talks to and every couple of weeks he sends me this crazy long email, his entire life poured into it, everything from college to community theatre. He's an oversharer too, you should form a club."

In response, Tina gave him a sad little smile. They'd gotten way off topic. "I've gotta get back to work."

"Sure thing. Love you," Tina gave him a bruising hug then snagged the bag of fries. "Just remember I love you more when you tell me secrets."

"Got it."

"So…about last night…"

"I'm not giving you details."

"Lemme finish a sentence."

"No."

ooOoo

Beams of warm yellow light shining out of lightly frosted conches illuminated the populated restaurant. At each table, bright blue flickers slowly cooked a mishmash of mussels, oysters, clams, shrimp, snails and lobster in a round metallic pot sending a complex mixture of scents into the air. The open flames and sheer mess of bodies combined into a sweltering heat that sent a bead of sweat streaking down Sam's back. He grimaced embarrassed, his date hovering over him. Swiping his sleeve across his brow, he shifted, trying to ease the discomfort from a stray splinter digging into his jeans. Looking around, he realized the other patrons had finally gone back to their own meals after his attempt to rescue his still wriggling food from imminent death had failed. His already burned fingers throbbed in remembered pain from shoving them into the steaming pot. Without even looking at him, Sam could feel his smile spread, eyes gleaming gold with barely contained mirth. "Go ahead, laugh."

Permission granted, Blaine exploded into gasps of helpless laughter. ""Oh god, your face! I've never seen that shade of green on anyone ever"

Tilting his head back, Sam took another deep breath thinking it had been almost worth it to see him smile. If he didn't still feel a little sick, he'd kiss him. Because it was him and because he'd had the table cleared the second Sam started to sway, hand stinging, all the appetizers and watered down hooch he'd drank turning to voluminous rebellious sludge in his belly. "Yak it up." He said over Blaine's roiling hilarity.

Okay, it wasn't  _that_  funny. "I didn't expect them to cook the poor little fuckers right in front of us." He defended.

The table rocked. "What did you think semi-live meant?"

"Don't know." Ever since he'd heard about a restaurant serving Semi-Live octopus, he'd been eager to try it. "I thought it was a gimmick and the food would die in or on the way from the kitchen like it's supposed to." Visions of the scrappy octopus trying to escape, creeping and crawling its way to nonexistent freedom left a slimy trail in his mind. Watching it struggle, he had to do something hence the ill advised snatching. Sam heaved, swallowing back bile as a waiter swung by with yet another heaped plate.

"You want to leave?"

Heartfelt, to the point, he said, "Please."

Waving off Blaine's offer to pay, he tucked a couple of bills under a water glass rising to his feet, Blaine still hovering around him like he would keel over. "I have officially,  _officially_  gone vegetarian." He swore. This had been his idea of a perfect first date. A relaxed but loud atmosphere, a diverse crowd and exotic food - the kind you'd never  _ever_  find in Lima. Despite his constant dieting, Sam occasionally liked to splurge on an adventurous meal, he'd scarfed down the pigs feet at the restaurant Tina dragged him to. Maybe he just liked his food you know – cooked.

As they strolled away from the buzzing restaurant; Sam's head like his plan was still skewed sideways. Weaving through the crowd of customers still arriving in loud excited groups, he shoved his fists into his pockets shoulders bumping Blaine who'd stopped laughing and was now eying him with concern. He couldn't have that.

"So…is this the worst date you've ever had?"

Blaine stopped then he smiled brightly. It gave him a slightly mischievous air. "Yes. Worst. Date. Ever. I thought you were going to repeat in the hotpot."

"Kind of your thing, isn't it?'

His smile morphed into startled laugh. "Jerk. The only reason I threw up was because you idiots kept feeding me shots." Belying his words, Blaine glanced over his shoulder quickly and then rose to his toes and pressed a kiss to Sam's lips. "I never thanked you."

Fingers looping through his belt, Sam kept him close. "For what?"

"That night. Cheering me up. Taking care of me." The sweep of his lashes cast shadows on his cheek. Sam seeking his eyes as if the held the answers to every secret in the universe.

He didn't know when making Blaine happy turned into his personal mission. For all he knew this strange desire had been lurking inside him all along only now raring it's 'impossible to ignore' head. He did know that he was the most compelling and talented person he'd ever met. If he had even a small part in helping him remember who he was, it was worth it. Sam dipped his head kissing his neck. The taste of his skin, salt, man, Blaine, an intoxicating rush. "I took care of you so hard I'm stunned you didn't wake up hooked up to an IV."

"I - We turned out great." There it was, the stupid seductive 'we' Sam was beginning to crave. It swirled through their conversation spreading the illusion of permanence until all he'd do was wait until the next time Blaine said it again. "But this date – much as I will never ever forget it -  _this date sucked._  Sam and Soju and seafood, oh my!" Fake coughing into his fisted hand did nothing to hide his grin."Ican do better."

Sam smiled like a raging loon at this challenge, smiled like his face would break. "Really?"

"Without breaking a sweat."

Blaine teased him mercilessly all the way home insistent that he could plan a better date. The words 'blow you out of the water' had come up several times, Sam letting him go on and on pleased with the thought of getting a second date. Now taking a break from ragging on him, Blaine sat on stool on the small island in their kitchen his bare feet tapping the lowest rung as his fingers peeled the label off his half empty beer. Music spilled low from speakers in the living room, something slow and folksy. No idea what it was but it fitted his mood perfectly.

It might have not been the date Sam planned but he was still having an amazing time. "Tell me again why I have to make you a sandwich?"

"You promised me dinner." Blaine grinned at him looking so damn happy. "I demand sustenance."

"You're lucky I like you." Sam grumbled. "I don't make sandwiches for just anybody."

"Tell you what, I will make it worth your while." That got his attention and he was almost on him when Blaine said "After." pointing at the fridge.

"This is cruel."

"It's fun for me. Now get chopping."

Assembling the ingredients on the chopping board, Sam sliced a cherry red tomato into thin even pieces, then he laid out the bread, lettuce, mayo and horse radish spread.

"Talk to me." Blaine interrupted.

"What do you want hear?" Taking a short side trip, Sam pulled the roast beef out of the fridge sure he'd heard wrong. "My favorite movie? That's what you want to know?"

"Yeah." Blaine insisted strangely earnest. "What beat out Avatar?"

Well, if it was that important to him. "The third Ironman was pretty good, until the end when he destroyed his robots like, 'Really dude without the robots what's the point?'" He was sure many would disagree with him but that ending was so disappointing. "Despite all the hype, 'Man of Steel' was terrible  _until_  the final scene. 'This is the End' was hilarious; 'Carrie' didn't suck, if you tell Tina I said that I will end you. 'Thor: The Dark World' and the new 'Star Trek' were pretty cool so was 'Machete Kills'. Loved 'Pacific Rim'."

"Totally loved that too, it was the last movie I saw before…  _yeah_."

… _Before Blaine started devoting every free second to getting to New York and Kurt._ No point bringing it up. They were both there when he started pulling away. Sam nodded adding slices of cheese to the growing pile.

A little shame faced Blaine confessed. "I stockpiled Sons of Anarchy DVDs after I saw it. In my defense Tumblr fuelled most of my insanity."

"Yeah right? Blame tumblr for your crush on the tall, hot, blonde..." Sam chuckled, "I think you have a type." He murmured.

"Ha! Ha!" He deadpanned. "Pick one."

"Why so curious?"

"I like knowing you better than everybody else."

"Oka-y, don't know if it's my favorite but I've seen Fast Six about eleven times. Remember the part where Dom flies across the bridge and catches Letty midair. Fuck! That was insane." He presented the finished sandwich with an overly dramatic flourish, flushing under the fond look. "To be completely honest, I've watched that bit more than eleven times. Probably triple that number."

"I haven't seen it."

" _You haven't seen it."_  Sam recoiled. "We've gotta get that fixed like right this second. And after that the American Dad parody is must watch TV."

"Can I eat first?"

Sam rounded the island stepping in between his spread thighs then he leaned in and deliberately said, "After."

Blaine's eyes went soft then hot. Hands sliding round Sam's waist pulling him in. "You're impatient." He murmured. Putting a hand to the back of his neck he stole a kiss. Blaine shivered, gripping his shoulders even tighter, mouth falling open. Sam took advantage, easing in his tongue, just the tip, and tasting him. Blaine's body went rigid at first with a barely audible gasp, and then melted. Sam took his mouth away, "You're beautiful." Seeing Blaine's objection coming a mile off, he cut him off. "Let me have this."

Sam lost himself every time they touched, amazed that he was allowed to touch him at all, that that touch was welcomed.

He had to keep reminding himself that he was the rebound guy, the inbetween guy, the pawn, the guy you stayed with until someone better came along. Ask Quinn or Mercedes or Britney. Everybody left him for someone or something better. He had a feeling when Blaine realized he was nothing special and inevitably left him for his next Kurt-a-like, it would hurt worse than all three of them combined. But there was no point dwelling on his shortcomings or the heartbreak bearing down on him. He'd been doing good, taking care of his physical needs while avoiding emotional entanglements but this was Blaine. His Blaine, the dream he never knew he had.

"Sam?" Blaine cocked an eyebrow at him, concern gathering.

Sam could do this, be everything for him, as long as he needed. "I've been thinking… about that dude replacement thing. How about Cupcake? Boo? Papi?"

"No to all of the above." Blaine's glowing expression told Sam he'd made the right choice. He brought up his hand and traced the silk of Sam's collarbone from his shoulder to the center of his chest. Their tongues met and tangled, and Sam pushed until Blaine tossed his head back deepening the kiss.

He tore away. "Why do I keep expecting Tina to pop up with a camera?"

"The lovable pervert."

"Come on." Blaine laughed. "Let's go watch the movie."


	16. Chapter 16

Blaine's eyes shifted from the flickering screen to the lean thigh pressed up against his. Sam sprawled on the comforter besides him, two pillows bunched up beneath his shaggy head, his lips occasionally mouthing the lines with the characters. Blaine could just imagine his mind filing away impressions ready to be whipped out later at the appropriate time. Cute though it was, it was also incredibly distracting. Swallowing down the final bite of his sandwich, he washed it down with lukewarm beer placing the green bottle on the bedside table. Stretching out beside Sam, he got comfortable, tried to follow the movie but all the furious revving and male posturing couldn't steal his attention from the very real male in his bed.

As if aware of his scrutiny, Sam muted the TV. "You're missing it."

"I'm not missing a thing." Rolling to his side, Blaine pressed up against him. He felt good, a strange but familiar happiness coalescing beneath his skin, he felt giddy, drunk on glee. Each breath was like his first. Anticipation and arousal bloomed to life and he felt Sam's body answer in kind, but he stopped himself from pushing the moment. Instead, he smiled down at his upturned face and studied his uncertain expression for clues to what his lover was thinking.

A patch of silence followed until Sam shifted uncomfortable under his stare. "What?"

Everything Blaine wanted to say was too cheesy and he couldn't laugh again, even though he didn't know how else to direct this flow of joie de vivre that escaped his body in random ill-timed bursts. This was one of the best nights he'd ever had including the terribly hilarious thirty minutes they'd spent at the restaurant. Mostly because of the terribly hilarious thirty minutes because he could hate it and say so and Sam wouldn't pout and turn it into a huge melodramatic moment. It was just a date, unimportant in the scheme of things. It reminded him sharply that they were friends. Despite the new changing shapes and shades of their relationship, their primary connection stood, unshakeable. Bedrock.

Clamping Sam's jaw between his hands, he swooped down and took his mouth in a branding kiss. Fingers tunneling into his hair, Sam let out a breathy laugh, mumbling about helmets. Blaine kissed him again. He loved his lips, the shape of them, the way the corners turned up when he smiled, the words they formed, the way they said his name. And holy fuck, the man could kiss. It was by far his most spectacular achievement.

Already mourning the loss, Blaine broke the kiss then slowly and deliberately straddled him, their cocks pressing together through layers of denim and cotton. One hard plastic button popped out of its slot freeing his collar then the next and the next, it took Sam a couple of seconds to decipher the act and when he did, his eyes widened, breath leaving him in a hard gasping heave, then rushing into action he struggled out of his own shirt almost unseating Blaine in the process. Then Sam's hands skated over his thighs toying with his belt buckle; there was lust and attraction in his eyes, heavy with anticipation and promise.

They met in a fierce kiss, the chest beneath his hands, hot and hard, heart thundering under his fingertips. Wet heat and teeth set into his skin amidst rapid panting. He bent lowering over a peaked tip, lapping the rigid nub with a pointed tongue. The effect was instantaneous. Sam gripped him hard and tight, digging into his thighs, Blaine sweeping his tongue into his mouth delighting in his harsh moans. Hands once again, busy at his waist; the button, the zipper, and then he raised his hips soft cotton sliding down. Helping, he wriggled out of his confinement, boxer briefs flying over his head. He was so hard; his cock throbbed, balls drawn painfully tight scraped by tough denim. Sam's eyes were locked on his then they dipped went hot, lingered. Sam's desire obvious in the way he clutched him. He would never get over being so wanted.

Fingers closed over his length, at the tentative tug, his nostrils flared, jaw dropping open emitting the neediest moan. "Sa-m." He panted. His slit leaked a rivulet of pre-come dripping over Sam's exploring hand; his sight went foggy with lust, choked sounds spilling out of him. Loud, loud sounds. Leaning back, Blaine fumbled for the remote, un-muting the movie and turning the volume up. Just in time. He keened as Sam's cupped his balls rolling each sensitive orb in one hand, the other slipping through his cleft, teasing his pucker. Blaine sucked on his lip, staving off the roiling sensation as the muscle fluttered and pulsed. He didn't want to come too fast.

He lifted his weight off the bed letting Blaine pull his trousers all the way down exposing his monumental erection. It was a thing of beauty. Big, pink, cut. Perfect.

"I don't want to hurt you." Sam stilled his wrist. "Stuff?" He asked in a rasp then added, "You have stuff right?"

Stuff yeah! Blaine had forgotten the need for stuff. Yanking open the top drawer, he tossed the silvery packet at Sam. Impatient he popped the tube cap, dripping cold lube down the crack of his ass, snaking a blunt slick finger past his ring coating his hole, digging in harsh and rough. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Sam open a condom packet with his teeth, one hand rolling it onto his cock while the other gripped tight on Blaine's hip like afraid he would escape. His body ached and tightened, fingers a blur working inside him, just enough to open him up. He reached around his body, took Sam's rigid penis in hand, and sank down on it completely sheathing his cock with one thick slow stroke. The sensation of that big cock cramming its way into his ass was overwhelming and he gloried in the taking.

Sam abruptly shifted his hold from Blaine's knees to his torso, the heels of his hands dug in with bruising force. Clenching again, he moaned lifted all the way to Sam's tip and then descended again, moaning as he swallowed his cock to the base once more.

"Tight. Ohhhh fuck -" Sam rasped, his cock flexing, swelling. Tweaking his nipples firmly, he held them tight between finger and thumb rolling them. "Fuckfuckfuck!"

Everything slipped sideways as he was flipped onto his back; Blaine brought his knees to his chest, spreading wide, wanton, and hedonistic. "More." He panted. Sam swore and reared up to his knees plunging inside him. He picked up the pace with agonizing slowness, but eventually his face contorted and he had trouble catching his breath. Sam withdrew all the way, leaving him open and begging, punching to the hilt, making them both shout. Rolling his hips up, he met the pounding thrusts, ruthless pleasure spiraling up his spine. Blaine winced but didn't slow down and didn't stop ramming his body up to meet every full shove of Sam's fucking either as he rode his own fist. Closing his eyes, he focused on the blinding jolts of electric blue pleasure that shot out of his cock and up his spine. Each thrust forced a sharp grunt from him, but he gripped the strong shoulders in holding on for the ride. The smaller man's head was thrown back and his body held rigid, meeting each brutal thrust with a grind of his hips until he came in hard wrenching spurts of milky white.

As they waned, Sam collapsed against his heaving chest, rising and falling with each labored breath. "I think I broke something." He wheezed, closing his hand over Blaine's parted lips. The spasms sent tendrils of pain and pleasure up and down his spine, his muscles clenching and unclenching around the softening cock. "Don't…don't laugh."

His breath caught as Sam slid carefully, gently out of his body, rolled over to dispose of the condom and flopped back by his side.

"That was…"

"Yeah!"

Limbs sticky with sweat covered his side, nerves buzzing with pleasure at each point of contact. "We should have been doing that this whole time." Sam mumbled. "From the day we met."

Satisfaction curled around Blaine's chest as he run his hand through flaxen strands. "We've got nothing but time." He received a grunt in reply, a sure sign that Sam was fading fast. He was too. Once more turning down the TV, he dragged as much of the comforter he could reach, prodding Sam until he moved, covering them both. Finally warm and sated his eyes closed on the rolling credits, slipping away into deep sleep, powerful and restorative.

Morning brought chaos. Blaine sat up, glancing at the newly lit curtains. It was far too early for movement, certainly not the racket buck-naked Sam was making as he flailed and flopped, picking up his clothes while hissing into his cellphone. Blaine turned his head for a better view – interesting. He was golden all over and hairless from the neck down. How had he missed that? His cock hadn't, it was all perked up and ready to go, greeting daylight with an extra 'hard' to its usual generic hard-on.

"I've gotta go."

Tearing from his body, Blaine cleared his throat nodding; he'd been following Sam's side of the conversation as he ogled. "Work?"

"Yeah." Sam held up his phone. "Studio. 30 minutes."

It helped that Sam looked as disappointed as he felt. Wait. Studio? "You got the modeling gig? Why didn't you tell me?" On some level he'd known that Sam wasn't stripping anymore. His hours had evened out, he wasn't sneaking in or out in the dead of night but he hadn't brought it up. The entire subject was a hotbed of conflict and Blaine could not bear to have yet another fight with him so he ignored it.

"It's no big deal, I just stand around for a couple of hours. He paints and I stand." He had a moment to think that Sam should be more excited but he couldn't address it now not with Sam poised to run out the door. "Do you have class today? Do you want to hang out later?"

Blaine snickered. "Sure." He was definitely 'up' for 'hanging out'. Now… later…any conceivable time after either.

"Cool." Sam beamed. After a quick peek, he darted out the door. Blaine slid down pulling the covers up to his chin, tucked his head under the pillow. Sam reappeared smelling fresh and yummy, ripped it off and left a mess of kisses on his face, and then he disappeared again with many promises of later. Curling up, Blaine slept stumbling out of bed at a much more reasonable hour.

It was the hammering at the front door that drove him from his room and he padded out on bare feet, hand scratching at his scalp as he debated shaving his head. He would sure save a bunch of money on hair product. It was in this comfy, unguarded state that he opened the door. And there he was. The Gladiator. Incendiary nipples tucked safely away behind a heavy coat.

Blaine stopped frozen. "Sam's not here." He could hear the territorial snarl in his voice. It was ugly but necessary.

The other man took a step back. "I'm not here for Sam."

" _Here"_  Tina screeched, leaving her room in a flurry. "I'm here." She stopped muttered a 'Sorry' at the intruder, and then she took one look at Blaine from the top of his head to tips of his toes missing nothing. "Sweetie, what are you still doing here? Don't you have class?"

Why was everybody so bloody nosy today? He was exhausted and he ached in places. Places that had been ploughed six ways to Sunday. Places that belonged in a hot bath then a warm bed where he'd spend the rest of the day catching up both on sleep and Sam's favorite movie. Because he damn well could. The world would wait.

Luckily for him Tina was very easily distracted. "Dammit, forgot my phone." She rifled through her massive purse, she drifted off upending its contents onto a stool, both of them following after her. "Fuckity fuck! Maybe it's in my room. I'll be right back." She took a couple of steps forward then came back. "Where are my manners? Temporary sidekick, Charlie meet friend, Blaine. Discuss."

"Oh! You're the other roommate, the mysterious benefactor?" He asked over the clomping of Tina's heels.

"We've met." Blaine snapped. He could still see those thieving hands wrapped around his boyfriend's neck. Yes, he'd just called Sam his boyfriend. So what? They were a couple or on their way to becoming a couple…they were together…dating. Whatever they were, it was important, the details would get hammered out later. His brain scrambled a little dawdling on 'hammer' and 'later'. He should slow down get used to the extra inch or so he'd been gift with; all the hammering was the reason why he woke up with a hitch in his step and a second condom wrapper stuck to his ass.

The Gladiator's brow furrowed then his eyes cleared in understanding. "Right. The party. I gotta say the blue was cute but I think this look suits you better."

Tina popped up clucking her tongue as she shoved all her stuff back into her bag and hoisted it over her shoulder. "Don't waste your breath, dummy. He's taken."

"Stop calling me dummy."

"Fine. Charlie. Come on." She prodded, dragging him out of the apartment.

Blaine took a deep breath, getting back to his own plans. Bath, bed, bliss. The desire for food finally sent him out of the apartment; he returned way past dark finding Sam face down on the couch, long legs sticking out over the edge. "Hey." He sat beside his still form, dabbing at the swirl of color behind his ear. "How was your first day?"

Sam's groan spoke for itself.

"That bad?"

"Glamorous, my ass! Ronan is a slave driver." Sam turned his head with all the effort of the Tin Man requiring an oil change. "My back is killing me and I have to ask for permission to use to bathroom."

Blaine squawked as he was pulled onto the couch next to him, Sam partially draping over him. His argument lost in the open mouthed kiss. "Thought you were tired."

"I will never be that tired."


	17. Chapter 17

Blaine tilted his head back staring at the grey skies as students and faculty scurried below to find refuge from the brisk wind. Giving a grateful shiver for the roof over his head and central heating, he turned facing the large chamber. Boasting high ceilings and massive windows, it was his favorite place on campus. The assembly of carefully preserved instruments called to him and he drifted round the room running his hands over burnished gold pausing to fiddle with the box of guitar picks, straighten a violin bow and pluck at harp strings. In the right hands, each of them could tell a story of love gained and love lost, of pain and sorrow, of joy and healing. Settling at the Grand piano his fingers flew over the keys in a lighthearted medley from Sinatra to Karen Carpenter, Eagles to Temptations cloying love songs spilled into the room, weaving gossamer strands that echoed his mood. He was halfway through 'Love me Tender' when he ripped his hands from the keyboard with an embarrassed little laugh.

Oh God! It  _was_ catching. He was turning into a Fanilow!

All last night Sam had had his Manilow's 'The Greatest Love Songs of all Time' playlist on repeat. The schmaltzy relentless ballads thrummed in the background as they talked and loved, enough for Blaine to pick up the lyrics, enough to develop an obsession with 'The Twelfth of Never' and its corny and weirdly beautiful lines.

_You ask how much I need you, must I explain?_

_I need you, oh my darling like roses need rain._

_You ask how long I'll love you_

_I'll tell you true_

_Until the Twelfth of never I'll still be loving you._

See corny. Beautiful. True.

All Sam.

They'd been together two weeks and Blaine could honestly say he'd never been happier or more relaxed. The tension of the past few months had leeched out of him leaving him refreshed and renewed and he put it down to Sam being his usual goofy self showering him with attention and affection. They were up most nights getting to know each other all over again, Blaine deliberately avoiding all their problem areas. From their first date, he was determined to give their relationship a semblance of normalcy. This is how he imagined their lives would have gone if by a twist of fate they'd met as complete strangers on the first day at Dalton or at Comic Con. He would think exactly what he thought now, that Sam was gorgeous and he was sweet and they had so much in common. After a ton of nervous deliberation, he would have asked him out, there would have been first dates, first kisses and other carnal first times.

His phone rang out just as he started playing and he wrested it from his pocket pressing it to his ear. "You have infected me."

Sam's "Hi" and "What?" formed a puzzled blend.

Jamming the slim device between his jaw and shoulder, Blaine stuffed his bag, shoving items in haphazardly in his impatience to head out and find him. "I have Barry Manilow stuck in my head, okay. I'm going to need a priest and some holy water  _and_  a ritualistic burning of his posters and your iPod. You know, the full works… we cannot skimp on an exorcism."

"It worked." Sam hooted.

Blaine grinned at his jubilation. "I will get rid of him." He promised.

"Babe, you are one of us now and we are never letting you go."

Pausing in the entryway, he fingered the thick strap of his messenger bag smiling. "I like that one. Babe is simple, easy, not embarrassing. I can live with being called babe." Even with his insistence he knew Sam wouldn't go for it. The choosing of pet names had turned into a game they played, he hoped it lasted forever.

"Nah! Babe is too simple and blah! I'm leaning more towards - Big Daddy."

Starting up again, Blaine choked back a laugh not wanting to encourage him. "If you call me Big Daddy, I am breaking up with you." Pushing through the heavy door, he searched the sidewalk, easily spotting the blonde across the street. Their eyes met, Sam raising his hand in greeting. He waved back, his heart taking up pompoms and starting up a cheer like it did every time he saw him. "I'll be right down." He said hanging up. He'd promised to show Sam around, give him the exclusive NYADA tour, which is why he had him show up way past six when pretty much everybody was heading home…and if Blaine ended up under him in his favorite room on his favorite piano that was just a bonus…and not premeditated at all.

Shoving through the heavy door he run over someone in his eagerness to get to the wide stairs that led to Sam. "Sorry." He muttered, squatting to pick up the weighty tome, his hand stilling over the Wicked Witch bookmark that spilled to the pavement. It hadn't been that long ago that he'd bought it for Kurt, both of them laughing over the striped stick out legs with the bright red shoes. Karma was definitely gunning for him. Dusting off the covers, he got carefully back his feet his eyes glued to the glossy cover but for the life of him he couldn't tell you the title if you asked. They went to the same school. They were bound to run into each other and Blaine should have been prepared for this moment but he wasn't.

Since he'd last seen the back of him at the Halloween party, he'd moved on so completely that even the odd 'I wonder what Kurt is doing' never crossed his mind. Maybe because he was happy and it had been a long time since he associated that feeling with Kurt. The only thing he did feel at that point was a prickling guilt because he hadn't missed him at all and given their history there was no time to wonder how that was possible.

Blaine hummed and hedged then he rallied. This was awkward but they could be civil. "Hi" He uttered passing him the book.

Kurt replied with a contemptuous huff, stuffing the bookmark out of sight, if only the disastrous end of their relationship could be so easily dealt with, stowed away so they could figure out how to rebuild a tentative friendship. When no words were forthcoming, Blaine looked up confused because Kurt was staring not at him but off into the distance. He turned following his line of sight to Sam - larger than life, impossible to miss – poring over what looked like a map with some girl who judging by the way he was alternatively flipping and peering at the tiny print was going to get even more lost if she followed his directions. Sometimes he could be so aggressively helpful even when it was easier to pawn these people off on somebody else. Especially then.

Blaine started as a little laugh escaped him – now was so not the time. Turning he wiped the fond smile off his face at Kurt's facial expression.

"Well – I guess you got what you always wanted." Now Kurt did turn to look at him saying with a disparaging smirk. "You must be so proud. The little gay boy that could."

_So much for civil._

While Blaine had had no intention of twisting the knife and flaunting their relationship, he wasn't going to roll over and just take Kurt's poisoned barbs. They broke up. He owed him nothing. "You wanted him too, right?" He mused. "Are you mad because I'm with him or because he's with me?"

Slim face contorting with fury, Kurt jeered. "I'm not surprised by him, he's kinda dumb, easy to manipulate but who knew you could be so easily swayed by a pretty face and a hot body."

Remorse ripped through Blaine, a startling realization flickering in and out of life.  _I did this; I turned him into this distorted version of himself._  He should have walked away at the sight of that stupid bookmark. At the very least he would have retained the memories of Kurt as a beautiful soul that he'd destroyed. He barely recognized him in this bitter twisted shell of a man. They'd loved each other once; Blaine wouldn't let it disintegrate into further mudslinging and petty bickering that would only damage them further. "I'm going to go before we both say something we'll regret."

"Something like what?" Kurt challenged, hand on hip, cocked brow. "Like you're nothing but a hole to him, a side trip in his little adventures in the big city. You're good in bed and we both know how he likes to fuck around. Do you think he'll forget he's straight if you bend over enough?" He continued to rage, "Or maybe he's bored already. Maybe he's picking up yet another stripper behind your back to satisfy that endless indiscriminate sexual appetite of his. You should keep a better handle on your pet before he realizes he's not into dick and runs back to pussy town."

Whoa!

More than hurt and rage oozed out of other boy in this sickening black sludge. Blaine turned to the pair chatting across the street. He could see how easy it would be to misinterpret what was happening. Not even a month ago he would have believed what Kurt said. The girl's jacket was now open, flashing a lot of cleavage. But, none of it bothered him. Sam gave off these little signals when he was  _interested_  – physically, emotionally - that were unmistakable. Blaine would know…Sam flirted with him constantly. That poor girl was getting nothing; she should put her jugs away before she caught pneumonia.

"I get it. You're still mad." It wasn't fair that he was doing great and Kurt wasn't but nothing excused this much spite. "But our disaster of a relationship wasn't entirely my fault. We both screwed up, me more than you and I can take responsibility for that. When you eventually fall off and get trampled by your high horse, figure out why you didn't just end it and put us both out of our misery.  _And leave Sam out of it._  He would never set out to deliberately hurt me like you just did."

It was a funny thing but all those months he'd pined and cried over Sam and his parade of one-night-stands came into perspective. They weren't about him. In fact they'd had nothing to do with him at all. Blaine's jealousy hadn't been his motive; the only time he talked about them was when the information was dragged out of him, he knew Sam would have been more circumspect if he'd known how he felt about him. Not once had he stopped to think that after his breakup with Brittany, Sam had missed being physically connected to someone even the illusion of desire, no matter how fleeting was a powerful thing, until they had an honest conversation, none of those questions would ever be answered. Right now all  _he_  cared about was since they'd gotten together his hoards of women had disappeared just as suddenly as they'd arrived.

"Just like that - he's in and I'm nothing." Came at him in a pained voice.

Blaine unbent a little. "Kurt…" He attempted but the temporary show of weakness snuffled out.

"Well, don't come crying to me when he leaves you for his harem of skanks." He finished bitterly jabbing white hot fury at him.

In a rare show of cruelty, Blaine's composure slipped and he snapped back. "If you were half the man Sam is, maybe Adam would want you back." He had no idea where it came from. Yeah, he'd passed Adam and his boyfriend in the hallway earlier sucking face like they'd been tasked to stave off the apocalypse but he never thought he'd fling it in Kurt's face. Giving into the desire to hurt him as well was beneath him. He backed up and walked away, the entire nasty conversation leaving a bad taste in his mouth.

"Now for your next trick, let's see you keep him." Kurt yelled but he kept on moving, one step in front of the other getting him where he needed to be. The short walk took him out of his past thrusting him into his future. Across the street he launched himself into Sam's arms, shaking the whole time. The large capable hands smoothed up his back holding him close.

"What's wrong?"

With a sharp jerk of his head, Blaine indicated over his shoulder where he could still feel the vengeful eyes boring into his back. "Just Kurt being - difficult."

"Oh!" Sam murmured, arms squeezing him extra tight then he cupped his upturned face softly kissing his lips. Gripping his wrist, Blaine leaned into him, recapturing the tiny bit of contentment he'd lost. It had nothing to do with proving a point to Kurt and everything to do with them and who they were becoming as a couple.

Sam held him at arm's length. "You wanna get out of here?"

Blaine nodded. Kurt was still resentful and so damaged. How could he be mad at him too when he'd already won? Savoring his hollow victory, Blaine slipped his hand into Sam's letting him drag him along, he could only hope Kurt met someone who made him feel the way he did now, someone who without effort was healing him piece by piece.

Digging in his heels, he stopped the forward momentum. "Isn't home  _that way_?"

"I saw this really cool tattoo place  _this way_." Sam pointed in the opposite direction

"Sam, really! A tattoo?"

"I'm just looking."

"Uh huh!" Tats could be dangerous, infections, disease but the lure of another of Sam's shenanigans was irresistible. "When you end up with "Make change forever' on your ass there will be laughing. Loud obnoxious laughing."

Following after him, Blaine outlined his objections for the hell of it and the distraction from the insulting conversation he'd just had. Kurt had touched on his insecurities in a way that he hated. Not that Sam would cheat on him that would never happen, he'd bet his life on it. Sam was the faithful type, loyal to the bone while it could be argued that Blaine wasn't. But…he'd been living with the assurance that everything would fall into place in its time…now he fended off the crippling fear that this could just a phase for Sam.

Whether you were gay, straight or bi; sexuality was tricky. It wasn't as cut and dried for some people. Sometimes you thought you were one thing and ended up another. He'd had his own doubts after kissing Rachel and he knew enough – Cooper, Quinn - to know that the college years were a pretty intense breeding ground of experimentation with alcohol, drugs and sex. Sam cared about his body enough that they were safe on the chemical front; it was highly unlikely that he'd start smoking or shooting up but the last was open to interpretation. Sam's inability to define himself was cool and progressive until  _you_  were his first foray into a same sex relationship. They definitely needed to talk before Blaine fell too deep to extricate himself.


	18. Chapter 18

"You're cheating!" Begrudgingly impressed, Blaine could only look on as the entire cunning plan unfolded.

"What!" Sam exclaimed settling back into his seat as he sped past him.

"Oh my god!" He turned back to the TV just as his car crashed and exploded. "You are trying to distract me with sex  _and it's working_." Blaine gaped back at him incredulous. He had not seen it coming. When they'd first started playing he'd been winning, then Sam yawned and stretched, his body going long and lean, the tight white t-shirt crept up exposing the taut muscles of his abdomen while Blaine drooled and crashed. Three explosions later it finally hit him, Sam's convenient and frankly suggestive undulations and the yawn…he wielded the lips and the body when he started to lose. Blaine hadn't stood a chance.

"Man, I am not cheating." With a little shake of his head, thumbs working Sam sped for the finish line and a sure if nefarious victory. "You are a sore loser."

 _Sore loser!_  The nerve of him. "Really Sam? Is that your kid brother's shirt?" Blaine demanded.

"I would  _never_  take clothes off Stevie's back." He protested loudly then muttered under his breath, "It's yours." Tossing the control to the side, Sam smirked victorious covering up with a much louder, "Should I set up again or do you give? Concede defeat? I've won so much I totally deserve a real crown."

Putting aside the curling pleasure that Sam was wearing his shirt, they were sharing clothes, lives, whatever. Focus. "Take it off." Blaine ordered. The golden head snapped towards him, eyes going molten with need "Not like that. I'm not rewarding um –" Blaine turned from the force of that stare before he crumbled, "your bad behavior."

"Then no. No reward, no shirt."

At the time it had seemed like a good idea to rip his shirt off Sam's back to prove a point. The resultant tussle tossed them from one end of the couch to the other until they landed hard on the carpet. Sam's letting out a loud "Ow!" as his head cracked on the floor. Blaine crawled on top of him, braced on one elbow the other hand gently cupping his prickly jaw. "I'm sorry. Are you okay?"

"Reward now." Sam moaned piteously.

"You big baby." Blaine smiled and kissed him. "Better?"

"More."

Kissing him square on the mouth, Blaine angled his mouth, thrusting his tongue, giving a lot more. Frantic hands swept down his back slipping into his pants, starting a rough skin on skin knead.

" _Guys_ ," Artie yelled above them. " _I am right here."_

They sprung apart, Blaine blinking as the vague memory surfaced that they – all three of them - had been gaming together.

"God!" Their unwilling spectator continued to rant. "It's bad enough that I get the audio night after night, I don't need the visual. Do you two ever even sleep? I want to know for like - Science. I get that you just got together but it's been almost a month. I was happy for you. Now I just hope you die doing whatever it is that keeps me up all night."

Blaine scrambled to his feet, taking up a corner of the plush couch. Unashamed Sam piled next to him, rocking an unrepentant grin. "Dude, we're sorry but you should wear a bell or something."

"A fucking bell! Really Sam…" He argued.

Sam not knowing when to shut up and leave well enough alone insisted on engaging with him until the ensuing ruckus drew Tina out of her room and she skidded to a halt right beside them. "What did I miss?"

"These two and their weird foreplay."

"I missed it." Her face fell. "Dammit!"

"Great!" Artie waved imperiously. "You're off the phone. Now sit and let's get this over with."

Tina flounced in sitting cross-legged next to them, Blaine watching on eagerly. The first time he'd heard about their monthly roommate meetings he'd been looking so forward to this day. The fact that there was some sort of diplomatic way they'd chosen to settle disputes that didn't involve insults or screaming at each other - which happened almost daily – left him completely flabbergasted.

"I'll start," Tina jumped in – no opening remarks, prayer or a good morning – okay. "I am not going to put a kibosh on the whole naked chick thing but seriously, shouldn't we have a designated porn area? All the reconstructed breasts are giving me a complex."

 _Hmmm…they weren't going to start slow with dirty dishes or whose turn it was to buy groceries?_ Blaine looked round, no one else was even remotely bothered by the topic of conversation so he plunged in. _Porn? Right? Who was watching porn in the living room?_  His eyes immediately alighted on Sam who pushed away - like he could feel his gaze - with an immediate, "It wasn't me."

"It was you," Tina parried. "It was both you and Artie watching it together which is soooo creepy."

"I  _meant_  it wasn't me that put it on. I was just going out and I got –  _distracted._  And what happened to you wanting to be treated like one of the guys?"

"I still want that but not while I'm having lunch. And while you're at it maybe you could try and pick pornos that have a broader appeal. This obsession straight men have with lesbians…No." She amended. "Big breasted lesbians is so fucking cliché. Especially when the movies are so badly acted, the lighting is poor and there's no plot."

"Yeah." Sam said drolly. "That's what guys care about – plot."

Blaine turned to Artie who was quiet considering he'd basically started this war. "Why can't you keep your porn on your laptop like everybody else?"

"The same reason you two refuse to have sex behind closed doors," He volleyed back. "Because I can. But…  _But_  I will refrain from watching videos with adult content in a shared space as long as my proposition for the resident couple to try and be quieter during sexy times is equally considered." He leaned back all smug then added a quick, "I second that." Out of the corner of his mouth.

"You can't second your own proposal."  _This was so not diplomatic. What did he expect? They were all hormones and bad decisions and he was one of them_. Blaine thought about the fact that they hadn't been able to corral their natural impulse to 'do it' everywhere. He put the blame squarely on Sam's head. He was so uninhibited that Blaine was pretty sure there was nothing he could come up with that Sam wouldn't want to try. Which is why they'd had sex on most available surfaces in the apartment sneaking around like naughty school kids the moment Artie and Tina were out the door. "What if I get you both noise cancelling headphones?"

"Deal."

He turned to Tina who shrugged and said, "I'm good." This cracked Sam up.

"You're taking them." Blaine insisted. At least if she had the headphones he could pretend she wasn't actively listening to them have sex. "And I have a complaint." Three heads swiveled his way. "What is up with the language? The endless swearing?" They all collectively dropped so many F bombs  _he_  was beginning to think it was normal. "Whatever you people are having is not conversation. Tina, you screamed at the bathroom door yesterday, truckers three states away were cringing…" Actually it was mostly him that was cringing since he'd been in the shower with Sam.

"Sam lingered in the bathroom."

"You couldn't wait two minutes."

"He went over his allotted time and I got places to be."

Stalemate. Blaine couldn't pursue the incident further without revealing his pinnacle role in Sam's delay. "I just think we should try and curb the impulse to yell at each other like hoodrats." This started so much snickering from his skeptical woefully immature audience. "How about we have a swear jar and you could put a quarter in every time you get busted…It could be fun."

"Okay," Artie intoned. "We will pen that in for the next meeting."

"Don't you mean the next fucking meeting?" Tittering came from his left.

"Any other complaints? No. Great. We are out of here."

" _Next meeting?"_ Blaine objected _._  "That's in a month. What about my thing?" They walked and rolled away like he hadn't spoken. "You all suck." He yelled after them. "What the hell, Sam? A little support would have been nice."

Sam turned that beautiful head in his direction and said with a tone usually reserved for the insane, "You can't tell us how to talk. I mean - ugh - swear jar?"

Blaine took his time answering but when he did he used the same exact tone. "Lesbian porn?"

Some of Sam's cockiness and swagger melted. "It was Artie's fault… I was just minding my own business when there they were…it was entrapment."

It was times like these that Kurt's words popped into his head. Blaine was gay – goldstar approved and everything - and his current boyfriend was into lesbians. He couldn't even begin to compute the fundamental differences in their lifestyles. Obviously Sam had always liked girls. As crassly as Kurt had put it, Sam  _was_ the mayor of 'Pussy Town'. Since they got to New York he'd gone nuts with all the 'pussy', plunging in and out, indulging himself in an excess of…he couldn't even think the word again - hell he'd drank the water so to speak. But none of that showed when he was in bed with him. When they were together he was like a kid in a candy store. Wide-eyed and eager and he wanted to try everything. Blaine was having a lot of trouble reconciling both of these vastly different sides of him especially since Sam hadn't expressed any interest in guys before him…so besides the fact that the whole world had turned on its head, what did it all mean?

"Hey," He began innocuously enough. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"You like guys right?" Sam's brow furrowed in confusion. "I mean um," How to put this in a simple non-confrontational way? "If we broke up…"

He was unprepared for the absolute panic that streaked across Sam's face "Are you breaking up with me? Did I do something? I didn't call you Bi – that name that I'm not supposed to call you."

Instinctively he tried to soothe him. "No. I meant hypothetically."

Sam still looked absolutely stricken. " _Hypothetically_  why would we be breaking up?"

Wow! Blaine grimaced at the whole avalanche of issues behind that easy smile that was now barreling straight for him. He took a much-needed breath and recalibrated. "When I asked if you are into guys, I meant if we ever broke up – let me finish - " He added quickly before he sent Sam into yet another tailspin. "In an alternate dimension, would you go back to pus-(Dammit) _girls_  or would you date a man  _after me_? Like Charlie? He's into you."

"Charlie is into everybody and I told you nothing happened between us. Why don't you believe me?"

The problem wasn't that Blaine didn't believe him; it was that he did, because he now found himself wishing for the incongruous. That Sam and Charlie had shared a teeny tiny kiss and it had been a huge disaster. It would still mean that Sam liked guys. How were they even together if he wasn't into men? What did that mean for their future? "So you're not bisexual?"

"I don't know. I just like you and I think you like me too." He said. "Why can't I be like – Blainesexual? This isn't exactly easy you know. Who wants to follow Kurt? He was perfect for you. You liked the same stuff …musicals and scarves and being gay… I only understood about half of what you guys talked about." His tirade tapered off. "And you were so sad after you saw him last week and – honestly most days, I'm just trying not to be the worst boyfriend in the world."

 _Boyfriend._  This was the first time either of them had said it out loud. Blaine clambered into his lap and kissed him. Kissed him until Sam stopped trembling, until he stopped panicking, until he keened, hands sliding under his shirt stroking his lower back. "You're nothing like Kurt in the absolutely best way." He stroked his face, holding his gaze pouring belief into every word. "I was sad but I'm not sad anymore and it's all because of you. Baby, I wouldn't trade you for a thousand Kurts."

Blaine could feel the change in him right before he asked, " How about a million?"

"Not even then and you are an awesome boyfriend."

" _I am_  kind of awesome."

Blaine rolled his eyes at the returning swagger and kissed him thankful that the tiny storm had passed.


	19. Chapter 19

The long slow walk from campus to the tiny gourmet vendor nearly three blocks away had become something of a routine for Blaine. Was it a new pattern that may have had something to do with avoiding Kurt? Probably. He preferred to focus on the delicious assortment of deli meats and zero in on the truly addictive fried plantain that was his favorite part of the day. Learning to find joy in simple pleasures was part of his emotional rehab. His classmate Tommy was prattling on beside him, Blaine nodding and tossing in an inane fact whenever there was a lull in the conversation. This tended to happen when certain people found out who his brother was; Cooper's star was on the rise making him more recognizable than ever.

When his phone buzzed Blaine grinned, hand flying up to simultaneously pay the man, get his food and dig his phone out of his pocket. Sam wasn't working today and since Tina was off shopping with Rachel – considering she'd shown little to no interest in her since she moved here, Tina's motives were suspect but weren't they always – he was bored and had been randomly texting Blaine all morning. Holding up one finger for Tommy - interpreted easily as a moment please – he drifted off to the side opening the text.

**Juicy Boys?**

Blaine's heart stopped cold at those ten characters. Eyes flicking to the clock he realized the last text he'd gotten from Sam was over an hour ago. It had been a request to use his laptop and struck by a case of the 'Poor baby's' Blaine had told him "What's mine is yours" or something equally stupidly romantic and sent him the password. Food on the counter, Blaine pushed to a relatively empty corner and called him only to get sent straight to voicemail. A second message pinged in-

**Busy. Txt.**

Fuck! Blaine cursed God and fate and himself. Anybody with half a brain deleted their browsing history but he hadn't stopped to think about Sam's endless curiosity which would definitely lead him to the one thing Blaine didn't want him to see.

Two things.

There was a downloaded video…

Panicky,Blaine typed.  **TURN IT OFF!**

 **Too l8t ;)** came the cheeky reply. He especially hated that winky face emoticon. It spoke of his dark secrets spilled into the light…his dark filthy under the covers secrets. This was worse than when his mom caught him rubbing one out when he was thirteen to a ripped out page from a vintage Playgirl. Okay. Okay. Maybe it was only marginally better but he could continue to hyperventilate right here or he could go home and strangle Sam.

Dropping the much-treasured lunch he tore out the door making it home in longer than it usually took because traffic and the universe were conspiring against him."Sam!" Blaine yelled for his boyfriend as he burst through the front door, flailing and outraged, propelled by a healthy dose of embarrassment. He found his adventurer sprawled across his bed, eyes glued to the 17-inch screen and no wonder he hadn't heard him over the eager, overacted, fuck noises pouring out of the speakers. The video? He'd found it. Two quick steps and Blaine switched off the player the abrupt cancellation of sound plunging them into a pulsating silence that called, no, begged for words.

"That is – was private." He explained over Sam's irrepressible grin.

"What happened to 'what's mine is yours'?"

Great! He had said that. "It doesn't extend to –"

"Porn?" Sam quirked that darn brow at him still combating amusement. "You weren't a fan of my lesbian porn watching so I thought I would check out some more guy on guy stuff…"

Blaine had no idea why he was being so bashful; it wasn't like he was still going solo.  _They_  had a lot of sex…a lot of incredibly mind-blowing sex. Sure, he bottomed every time even when he kind of wanted to switch it up once in a while. But then he remembered that they'd been together less than a month, Sam wasn't going anywhere and they could take  _baby steps._ For Sam's sake.

The same Sam who was still teasing him because that's what he did. "You think you know a guy? Man, I had no idea you were into facials or…" He tipped back reading the title which was unfortunately still prominently displayed. "Cum guzzling cock whores. Yowza! That is a mouthful." He giggled, "Mouthful."

It was so nice that Sam did not have any sexual hang-ups but Blaine wished he'd be more respectful of other peoples. "Fine, you made your point." He snapped. "Everybody has their base animalistic urges even me. Can I go back to school now without you snooping in all my stuff?"

"You've totally missed my point." Sam caught up with him at the door, nuzzling the base of his neck with such tenderness Blaine's chest suddenly ached. "In fact you aren't even in the same vicinity as my point."

"What  _is_ your point?"

"If _this_  is the kind of stuff you want," Sam said softly, "then we can try it out."

Blaine needed to sit down before his knees gave out. "This isn't funny.

"Who's laughing?

" _You are."_

"Just happy that you are a real live boy. Sometimes I think you are too perfect."

There was probably some logic in Sam's convoluted statement but right now Blaine couldn't tear his eyes from that soft lush mouth. Following helpless as it backed away from him. "I'm not." He objected faintly though a part of him was thrilled that Sam saw him that way.

"How do you want me?"

At the slide of the pink tongue over plump pink lips, Blaine plopped onto the rumpled bed and croaked. "Knees."

Sam should have seemed vaguely submissive kneeling between his open thighs, running one palm up the length of Blaine's shaft and pulling at the waistband, but it was Blaine who couldn't swallow around the lump in his throat as his zipper popped, teeth parting over his growing bulge.  _Who did this? Fulfilled a pornographic fantasy with no urging? It was madness only to be shared with nameless faceless strangers from the safe distance of the Internet._

He must have lost time because he was plump and ready, the wet tip looming over his boyfriend's eager face. Using one hand, he held his throbbing cock by the base and angled it forward, Sam's lips met the taut skin of his cock head and he was lost. A pink tongue swiped at him. Darting and licking in hot wet circles, then finally he slowly sunk into the hot mouth. Blaine's eyelids fell and he watched him in a steamy haze. Watched him work his tongue on the underside following Blaine's slurry instructions. His tongue flicking the leaking cleft. He couldn't deny that he'd wanted this, exactly this, from the day they met. Every time he put on Chapstick he pretended Sam wanted this too, was begging for it.

Grunting Blaine strained from the urge to dig in deeper and violate the deep pocket of his throat. He reached down and felt his neck and imagined he could feel his cock down there.

The angle wasn't perfect. Teeth occasionally caught on the stretched skin. It was perfect in its imperfection.

Clumsy, drunk on lust and power, Blaine's need reached a frenzied peak and he lost control for a second, yanking on his ears and slamming his face into his crotch, forcing his dick down into his throat. Sam gagged and choked, pulled away. A viscous string of fluid connected the edge of bottom lip to the moist tip of his organ for a moment then it snapped dripping from his chin. The absolute filth of it knocked him sideways.

He hoped Sam would accept an apology later because he could not stop. But his body relaxed and he let himself be sucked, thighs twitching green eyes locked on to brown as he squelched his thick cock in and out of his hot mouth, his balls beginning to climb up and tighten, his breathing to falter.

His body tensed up solid, legs locked, hands gripping his hair. Silently he withdrew his dick until just the head filled his mouth, then bucked up, slamming into the roof of Sam's mouth, convulsing as orgasm hit and he came bucket loads pouring from his jerking cock, filling Sam up faster than he could swallow. Blaine with a final jerk collapsed to his back completely drained, arm flung over his face.

Sam left the room and returned, crashing next to him. Blaine buried his face in his neck and held on for dear life, soft panting breaths fanning over his shoulders. "What am I going to do with you?"  _Who did this?_

"I have some –  _ideas._ " Sam reached over dragging the open laptop closer. "As long as we're still trying stuff…"

The rest of the afternoon and night was like Russian Roulette but with porn.

ooOoo

The next evening, Blaine edged into the milling Chelsea studio, he was early; the movie didn't start for at least another hour so he thought he'd just head out and meet Sam at his work. There was a minimum of fuss at the door that quickly cleared up as he explained to the harried looking woman that he was Sam's boyfriend. She sent him a distracted welcoming smile and led him to long heavy table at the back that was out of the way but still offered an incredible view of the action up front. Whatever he was expecting didn't begin to cover a fraction of the stark beauty or the scale of the painted canvas that fell from the ceiling. The hellish landscape filled with fantastic vegetation and creatures was so convincing that it gave the impression of looking through glass into another world.

Sam's lower body was covered by thick black sludge that blended into the paint on his skin and contrasted with the lightened gold on his head and utter whiteness of half of his face and left shoulder. It was as if he was clawing his way free from the earth. Then the lights over his head changed, darkened throwing the world into sinister shade. Blaine gasped out loud before clapping his palm over his mouth, relaxing as no one came to kick him out. How did Sam not talk about this all the time? If Blaine were ever lucky enough to be part of something this amazing he'd never shut up about it. Hell, he'd stop complete strangers on the street to tell them about his job.

Over the course of an hour, Blaine's attention wandered from Sam and flitted around the room. Trying to match faces to the names he'd heard. Claire he'd met and it was easy to pick his boss, Ronan out from the crowd. He was the guy wielding the camera and yelling out the orders. The first thing Blaine noticed was the hair, a riot of red on one end with a few purple strands that it erupted into jet black with no discernible pattern like he got bored halfway through the dye job and moved on to something else and then the face twisting scowl. Blaine had no doubt he had men falling over themselves to turn that frown upside down. He was hot if you liked that – being led down the garden path, no idea where you'd wake up - sort of thing.

He was still assessing (staring) when they wrapped up and the lights came on and Sam was ambling towards him still gorgeous under the dirt. He smiled open, honest, warmth filling his moss eyes, curving his sensual full lips upward. "Hi."

Blaine returned a dopey grin. "You're naked."

Sam's hands clenched around the white sheet that covered his painted hips. "Don't remind me." Lines crinkled at the corners of his eyes. "It gets so hot under the lights that I have to nude up so I don't pass out but nobody cares which is good."

These pretty people did not give two shakes about nudity. Sam was hardly the first model they'd worked with.

"I'm gonna go change and we can leave." He made to kiss him then remembered the paint and walked off grumbling.

To while away the minutes, Blaine took a stroll around the studio, it was a fantastical place filled with hanged paintings, colored sketches and unfinished pottery. The entire time he checked out the art in the room he was sure he could feel eyes burning into the back of his neck but when he turned Claire was screaming on the phone, Ronan arguing with a painfully thin woman and a newcomer was swirling ice cubes and amber liquid in a glass recumbent on the only remotely comfortable piece of furniture in the place, the rest of the acolytes were leaving. Sam was back by his side before he had made a full circuit of the room.

They were at the door when that lazy voice reached them, calling them back. Sam turned and made a quick introduction. "Ronan Ash, Blaine Anderson. Blaine, Ronan. We good? Cool. We're leaving." Up-close he was even more raptorial, his firm handshake lasting a little too long.

"We were going upstairs to get a drink." He gestured at the loose-limbed man lolling on the divan. "You're both welcome to join us." He smirked with the general air of one that infamy had not only embraced and but was slowly siphoning the morality out of.

"No. Thank you." Sam insisted, taking several steps back pulling Blaine with him. "We already have a thing."

"Sam," Blaine stumbled after him. "That was rude we could have stayed for a couple of minutes. He's your boss we should make nice, have one drink…schmooze…" He gasped as they cleared the building, hurrying to keep up.

"No."

 _For the love of…_  Blaine stopped and waited, checking the time on his phone until Sam figured out he wasn't right behind him and came back. "Why don't you want to stay?"

"I – do you want to end up in a –" He waved his arms about searching for the right words. "69 Squared?"

Blaine shook his head trying to focus through the flurry of images that question brought. "Noooo! That is…he can't just…I mean you work for him, he can't invite you and a complete stranger to…"

"Have sex with him and Ray? Sure he can. They do it all the time."

So that was the boyfriend! He mused and holy hell, they were real live swingers. He wasn't  _interested_. Obviously but this was definitely one for the blogosphere. How often does one get invited to a foursome and was flattered and creeped out an appropriate reaction? Four people, one bed. How did that work? What went where and when? Did they time it out and switch so nobody felt cheated? Well, it was official, everyone over the age of 21 in this city was crazy. He wondered if New York only attracted crazies or if it drove its inhabitants nuts as some sort of terrible toll for living there. "Has he asked you before?"

"No, they only ask other couples."

It was too mean but after the stunts Sam kept pulling on him, Blaine had one fortuitous opportunity to get him back. Rising to his toes, he wound his arms round Sam's neck and breathed. _"We_  are a couple."

Sam's frowned then his eyes bulged comically as Blaine's meaning dawned on him. "You want to go back up there and hook up with those guys?"

Lowering back down to his feet, Blaine considered for a while then took a definitive step backward. "Come on Mr. Adventure," He enticed taking another small step. "Don't you feel it? Complete and total freedom. We can do whatever we want."

The words said so long ago spurred him into action. Sam yanked him forward by the belt with a frustrated groan. "You aren't really considering…"

"Not even for a second. Four people in one bed?" Blaine shuddered letting him breathe. His arms wound back up, holding on as he kissed him again and again. ""You, anywhere, is more my speed."

Sam slanted him that look. The same look he'd given him right before he slipped his hands into his pants on the dance floor at the black lights party and jerked him off quick and dirty. The look that now preceded being dragged into a nearby alley.

ooOoo

Sam sat on the bench, hand flexing on his thighs. The scratching of pencil on paper was the only sound in the room somehow exacerbating the tense silence. Usually he tried to engage Ronan in conversation especially during the initial prep as they were shifting from one surrealist canvas to the next. But this time - no dice. Not when he'd hit on him or Blaine or both of them. It was weird and wrong and skeevy.

"You're sulking."

"I am not –" Sam paused and lowered his voice. "I'm not sulking because I'm not a child."

Ronan gave him a long, nerve-racking look. "Oh good, you noticed."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"This," Ronan whipped out the A4 sketchpad – his sketchpad - bulging with paper. He thought he'd lost it somewhere on his rush out last night and dreaded telling Blaine because his form, sometimes nude, filled the pages.

"Give that back." Sam broke pose for the first time in forever. The ingrained lesson that kept him contorted on the floor for hours on end had been learned from the very beginning.

"Sit!"

Sam sat because whether or not Ronan was acting like a horny teenager; he was still his boss. "Why don't I know about this?" He asked.

Ronan was worse than Tina when it came to respecting personal property; Sam was definitely on the verge of an epic sulk. "It's personal."

The other man continued to study him with those fucking enigmatic eyes, the same eyes that had being going through his sketches. Sam was torn between the desire to hit him and wishing he had a Neuralyzer to scrub his brain clean.

"These aren't the worst drawings I've ever seen. I mean what I could see of them in between the off-putting hyphenated Evans-Anderson doodles." He fired without taking a breath. "Why aren't you in college?"

Sam's mouth dropped open because he hated that question and because this is the most attention Ronan had paid to him since they'd first met. Was that because of Blaine? No dodging the dreaded question. He thought about going on about his dyslexia but what would that accomplish, really. "I don't - test well."

"So your big plan is to be a stripper for the rest of your life?"

 _The fuck?_  "Am not stripping now."

"How long do you think it will be before you end up back in the club grinding for tips?" He interrogated. "You've been here what? Three weeks and not once have you brought up the fact that you're an artist. Not once have you talked to the other artists and sculptors that troop through here everyday. You haven't spoken to the agents or the gallery owners'…hell you haven't brought it up with me. Look at where you are! Opportunity is staring you right in the face and you're doing nothing."

Yes, Sam knew that practically everybody that came through that door was affiliated with the art world in some way. His boss was in the enviable position of being a big shot and he commanded a lot of influence. Sam knew that but he was paralyzed. Everyone was so much smarter than him and had way more experience; he doubted they'd ever listen to what he had to say. He was a minnow among sharks. A naked minnow. "I-I- " Sam struggled with his answer.

Ronan cut him off, apparently deciding he didn't want to hear what he had to say, after all. "You can have a thousand excuses but you're not a kid anymore. You want something? Go out and get it."

It was easy for Ronan to say something like that, look at where he lived, his immense talent and much as his parents had cut him off, Sam found out he had a trust fund from his grandmother or somebody that kicked in when he was twenty one. But like he said all these were nothing but excuses. He sucked in a breath, swallowed. "I don't know where to start."

"Start here. You've got a studio, canvas, paints…I won't miss any of it. And besides I will need a new assistant now that Claire's Neanderthal has proposed and wants to drag her across the fucking country. He's doing this just to get her away from me."

 _They were back on him?_  "So I'm your model - assistant - apprentice?"

"You're now a Jack of all trades. Learn to wear those hats well."

For some reason, Sam couldn't stop smiling because this was fucking insane. He couldn't wait to tell Blaine. It was the first good news he'd had in months. He must be dreaming. "Does this mean I get to call you Ro?"

"Did I lose my virginity to you at twelve?"

 _Twelve?_  Damn, Claire. "No."

"There's your answer now get out."

Sam snagged three already pre stretched canvases, a set of oil and watercolor paints and Kolinsky sable brushes because he had to try them out, piling one on top of another incase Ronan changed his mind later. Damn. No hand left for the easel, he dithered until he decided to just come back for one later.


	20. Chapter 20

Blaine marveled at the fact that Sam was finally talking about his job - his non-stripping clothes constantly on job. The information came out of him at first in trickles then wordy deluges. Mostly he was whining and bitching about Ronan being a hard-ass but underneath it all Blaine could trace the strong vein of pleasure and pride he took in achieving even the smallest of victories. It was gratifying to watch him get so excited about answering phones and being allowed to sit in on meetings. Seeing him like that it didn't take a genius to realize why he hadn't been entirely happy modeling. One career reinforced his belief that all he had to offer was his body the other needed his talent so while Blaine wasn't entirely sure Ronan was the best role model for him there was no doubt he could do something for Sam that Blaine wouldn't have managed on his own.

So Blaine was happy for him. He was. Except for the part where it cut into the amount of time they spent together since Sam had to work every day, five days a week not every other day. He also sometimes had to give up the odd Saturday. So Blaine said goodbye to the long mornings they spent in bed, farewell to the endless afternoons of movies and sex and videogames and sex. At least they still had the nights. It had the unhappy side effect of freeing up huge expanses of time for Blaine. Without Sam there to constantly fill up the silences he had nothing left to do but think. Think about all the things that gone wrong in his life that had nothing to do with Kurt or Sam and everything to do with him but he soon found he couldn't think about his present or his future without dealing with his past. They were intricately linked, way leading onto way. So he flung open his closet door and went rooting into the untouched pile of his stuff that Santana had brought back, digging deep until there it was, sitting unobtrusive at the bottom, his hand shaking as he picked it up like he was Pandora and opening it would unleash a powerful evil back into his world. For the longest time that's all he did, kneel there with the tiny box in his hand. It was odd to think that if he'd had his way, he'd be married by now - to Kurt. His conviction spurred by a maniacal desire for penance would have gotten them down the aisle. The thought was bone chilling and not just for the obvious reason of choosing the wrong partner. There were layers upon layers of self-doubt and personal forgiveness that he needed to deal with, months of pain and denial just lurking in the wings.

Crawling from his closet, he sprawled out on the floor; flat on his back gently cushioned by the carpet he eyed 'the ring' now that the world hadn't exploded at its reveal. He watched the light play over the heavy metal with each twist of his hand. "One ring to rule them all." He mimicked fist in the air then chortled then sighed. All the larking about would only delay the inevitable. He had to deal with this now, now that Sam wasn't here to distract him with his Sam-ness.

Clomping in the hallway distracted him and he jumped onto the opportunity not to deal with this right now. Thank god for Tina! He'd wasn't ready to rip his soul out by the roots. Shoving the ring on his finger he got up as she burst in complaining.

"Dude, what is up with the Mumford and Sons?" She waved at his iPod that was blaring out 'Sigh No More'. "Two seconds of that drivel and I'm about ready to kill myself."

"It helps me think."

"About what? Sweet, sweet murder?"

"Where do you get this stuff?" Blaine snorted. "And don't insult Mumford their music is romantic."

"I prefer not to have my romance screamed at me, thank you." She sniffed. "Do you want to go to the bar? Happy hour is in like 30 minutes."

Ah yes the bar! Dogma was their favorite bar. For Artie, it was the girl he loved who always hang out there with her friends. For Tina, it was never paying the cover charge or buying herself a drink. For him…Sam loved that place and you couldn't throw a rock in that crowd without hitting another same sex couple. It was freeing. "Sam's not back yet."

"I'll tell him to meet us there." Tina fired off a text then she turned on him. "When are you going to tell him you dropped out?"

Blindsided, Blaine stopped clutching one shoe. Having roommates had its perks but sometimes Blaine felt like he was living in a fishbowl, that was if the human plunged his head under the water every two minutes and passed judgment on the goldfish's life. "I haven't dropped out." He had skipped a couple of classes as the allure of NYADA lost its luster and he became increasingly confused about what he wanted to do with his life. Primarily because NYADA and Kurt were one in his head, you couldn't have one without the other and he was still reeling from the revelation that the only reason he joined was because of Kurt. So right now he had to go back to square one, take Kurt out of the equation and then figure out what  _he_  really wanted hence the narrowly avoided soul ripping.

"We are here if you ever want to talk or whatever."

It was sweet of her but this wasn't something anyone could help him with; he needed to sort it out on his own. "I know."

"And Sweetie?" Blaine's head jerked back up. "Throw that ring out. It's bad juju to keep it around."

He was going to throw it out eventually - it wasn't like Sam would ever want a secondhand ring - but his hesitation came from the fortune it had cost him, its implication stretching way beyond money alone.

ooOoo

Happy Hour was long over when Blaine found himself squinting through his buzz at the guy across from him. Phil Somebody had been talking his ear off for the better part of an hour. Blaine's fault. He shouldn't have let him buy him the first drink or the second or third but he was so bored without Sam there. Tina was still off on the dance floor splitting eardrums and average looking Philip had seemed harmless, easy to fend off. Boy was he wrong, come on after come on was hurled at him, those limpid eyes bearing down on him like a freight train. He should have walked away long before this but this corner booth was a coveted spot in the bar. It was dark and intimate, Sam did things to him in this booth. It was their booth. Sure, he was mad at Sam because he was way past late even if he was sending the cutest half hourly updates on his progress, Blaine was still kind of mad. So he indulged Phil, underneath all his earnest awkward flirting were some topics of interest – PhD, Political Science, NYU – so Blaine kept steering him back to that, kicking his leg when it wandered too close to his. It must have been numb by now because he was responding less and less.

Blaine turned routinely scanning the crowd, any shade of blond pulling his attention from the hapless Phil. Still no Sam, he'd seen The Gladiator somewhere and Artie had stopped by for one beer then left for the movies with his friends from school. Sighing he decided to spend more time actively listening to bad pickup lines, taking one more indiscreet pass over the crowd locking onto the right shade of blond at the bar.

 _What the hell?_  Sam had to have seen him. Then he realized,  _Sam had to have seen him. With this fool. In their corner._ Fuck. From the outside it probably looked bad, Phil of the big hands that kept reaching for him. Long dead panicky impulses kicked in and Blaine got to his feet pushing through the crowd. What if Sam thought he was cheating on him? At the end there, Kurt had always flown off the handle if he as much as looked at another guy. From one instance to the next it all came back to him, the heart pounding terror of being trapped with a jealous lover. He remembered how much he hated it. How it made him small and weak. How he was constantly armed with explanations and apologies. How jealousy ate away at their relationship until there was nothing left. Even drenched in fear of repeating that pattern he couldn't stop moving because he couldn't stand to have Sam mad at him. Standing right behind him, Blaine took a breath and talked himself down. He would take whatever punishment came his way, if Sam wanted to sulk or yell, he would deal, he was a veteran at dealing with the green-eyed monster.

His hand rose robotic and tapped Sam on his shoulder and the moment he turned around he rushed. "Nothing happened with Phil."

It collided with Sam's, "Babe, I am so sorry I'm late." Then he frowned. "I just stopped to get a beer. Why would anything be happening with Phil? Who's Phil?" He asked around a jaw-splitting yawn.

"I thought – you thought –" Blaine stopped, unable to focus over the uproar in his head. Why wasn't Sam mad? Maybe he was waiting until they were alone. That equaled yelling. Kurt sometimes did that. "That is Phil." He pointed to his overenthusiastic suitor. "Nothing happened." It was important for Sam to understand.

"Oh! I was just happy that you weren't waiting for me by yourself." He tipped closer. "Are you planning on running off with Phil and starting an artist colony?"

"No." Blaine choked out ragged and raw. Then he focused on Sam's tone, the very teasing tone he alternatively loved and hated. Relief limped through his veins and he sagged against him, Sam catching him.

"Are you okay?" He whispered in his ear.

Blaine could barely catch the words just the concern that lay behind them. Suddenly he felt foolish, Sam trusted him. He had no reason not to. "You are the only artist I want." He affirmed even if Sam didn't need it, he did. Apparently Sam did too, he could feel his smile form and the little catch in his breath. God! He hadn't known how much emotional baggage he was toting around until it smacked him in the face. Right now Blaine wanted to go home and curl around this man and appreciate the gift he'd given him just bask in his presence because for a moment there, he thought he'd lost him. "Let's go home."

"What about the 'Woo girl'?

Tina. The system. They couldn't leave her alone. "I'll be right back. Down your beer." He prompted. Visibly exhausted, Sam sank onto a barstool with a groan rubbing the back of his neck.

Approaching The Gladiator – Charlie. Call him Charlie. – took a lot out of Blaine. He was a close friend of Sam and Tina, he constantly stopped by and they hang out but Blaine had never particularly warmed up to him. The groping incident from Halloween still rankled even though he supposed he should be grateful, if  _Charlie_ had never touched Sam so intimately, he would never have had the courage to do it. They wouldn't be together now.  _So be nice and trust Sam like he trusts you._  It was less easy when Charlie swung around with a guarded smile. Blaine had done that by being consistently aloof around him. Okay, he exhaled; it was time for a new beginning.

"Hey, could you do me –  _us_  a favor and keep an eye on Tina? Make sure she gets home."

They both watched Tina who was dancing and having a better time than everybody in the bar combined.

"Sure but you know that if I bring her home, it will be late and I probably have to crash on your couch. Are  _you_ okay with that?"

Cards on the table time. Blaine could be just as blunt as he was. "Sam and I are a couple. Can  _you_  respect that?"

"I know that you're together. Besides the having eyes thing, Sam told me…then Tina told me…then Artie told me. So I'm pretty sure I got it. You are both taken I can respect it so it would be great if you eased up."

Blaine flushed. He had been kind of mean to him. On occasion. "Deal."

He smiled all the way home delighting in his maturity even Sam's lagging energy failed to get him down. Upstairs he graciously offered to give Sam a massage. He'd get him all relaxed then he'd get some. Sam conked out ten minutes in Blaine toppling off of him disappointed. All revved up and nowhere to go.

As always with Sam's silence, thought snuck back in, but after his doozy of a night he could finally see clearly. Sitting up he propped a pillow between his back and the headboard and studied the ring that was still on his finger. It had bounced back and forth between him and Kurt so many times under different names; engagement ring, promise ring, friendship/fidelity ring…noose… Acknowledging that a part of him had been lonely when they first met was  _difficult_. His parents were gone all the time and Cooper was Cooper, it was possible to feel alone even while you were in a room with him, so engrossed was he in his own personal vanities and pursuits. So when Kurt came along, Blaine had finally had someone that was just his. Someone to share the holidays, someone at the end of the line no matter what, someone to love, someone to whom he came first…until Kurt got busy with his new life and Blaine felt neglected like he was being abandoned all over again. The world was a terribly lonely place for people who had no one. Its no wonder he'd scraped and crawled to get back in his good graces and the ring was meant to cement all of that, ensure that he'd never be alone again. It was the promise of forever, 'Until death do us part!' that he'd loved more than the man. An illusion he'd chased only to spend the past few months being lonelier with Kurt than he'd ever been without him.

Tina may have hated 'Sigh No More' but those lyrics were right on the money.

_Love it will not betray you_ _  
_ _Dismay or enslave you, it will set you free_ _  
_ _Be more like the man you were made to be_ _  
_ _There is a design, an alignment, a cry_ _  
_ _Of my heart to see,_ _  
_ _The beauty of love as it was made to be_

Ripping the ring off his fingers, Blaine found the box slotting it back into its home. He sat for a while pen poised over paper debating the exact right thing to say. All he could hear was Mr. Schue in his head insisting they could say anything with music. What if the recipient of the message would as soon rip your head as look as look at you? What then huh? He questioned his imaginary teacher but even that wasn't helping so he settled on simple.

_I'm sorry. The ring is yours to keep. You can melt in down or toss it in the East River whatever helps you feel better. We will be here when you are ready._

_Blaine._

The penned "we" seemed a little too antagonistic but he left it because from now on he and Sam were a unit. Folding it before he could change his mind, he slipped them both into his drawer, to be sent out first thing in the morning.

Snuggling back next to Sam, Blaine worried that he would start putting the same pressures on his new relationship, that he would make Sam the be all and end all of everything until they crumpled under the force of his expectations. Sam had been really busy for all of a week and already he felt the same stirrings of anxiety and twinges of neglect that plagued him during Kurt's absence. And if he felt this way now, what would happen in a month, two months? They weren't always going to be together, Sam's job would eventually involve quite a bit of travel. What would happen when he went on a trip with Ronan? Would he fly into a jealous rage, sleep around? Trust was a fragile slip of a thing, shattering easily, impossible to fully reclaim and yet he knew love could neither survive or thrive without it. From this point on, trust had to be the cornerstone of their relationship.

Blaine had to find something he loved as much as Sam loved his art, if it wasn't at NYADA then he needed to move on  _and_  he needed to make some new friends, platonic friends not of the Facebook random hookup variety. Of their small group, he was the only one who hadn't racked up any new connections.


	21. Chapter 21

"Sam?"

Sam snapped his neck round ending his perusal of the street. "Huh?" He inquired over the clickety-clack of Tina's scarlet nails on the glass.

She huffed irritated. "You've turned into the worst wingman ever. Good god! You are like one of those chicks that gets a boyfriend and her friends become invisible"

"I am not." Sam spared one glance out the window. Empty. Then he twisted in the loveseat, stretching his legs out and bumping hers. "And if you'd told me what kind of place this was I would have worn nicer jeans. What are we doing here anyway? And why do you look so…hot?" She usually looked nice but this was glossy lips and boobs and killer heels. Her dress was so tight every time she breathed he expected her to Hulk out and burst the seams.

"FU! I look hot all the time," She glared at him through narrowed eyes. "And let me explain this again; since you and Blaine started screwing I've gone from being part of a dynamic duo to a third wheel. Artie's buggered off too.  _So_   _I need to date_."

Sam squirmed. "I'm sorry." Trying to juggle Blaine, the modeling, Ronan's after hours demands and the list of assignments he doled out to determine Sam's artistic range was exhausting. No matter what Sam did, he felt like he was letting somebody down, usually her. _"_ When Ronan's done shooting all eight landscapes I will have more time to hang out."

"Nah! Ignore my bitchface," Tina pushed her straw in, catching it as it flew out. "I just really miss you. But I do get it, Sam. You're in love." She got black pencil out of her tiny purse scrawled on a napkin and shoved it at him. "This is you with the googly lurrve eyes."

The stick figure with giant saucer eyes and hearts over his head was amusing and accurate. "You can't draw for shit."

"Doesn't make it any less true. Have you told him?"

"I'm going to. I'm just…" Worried. He'd been so ready to tell him then he turned around and Blaine was wearing  _'the ring'._ It had only been that one time but since then he'd been acting weird, taking these solitary excursions. Sam didn't want to come right out and ask 'what the hell he was doing?' because he was entitled to a little privacy and when Blaine wanted to tell him he'd tell him. "I'm waiting for the right time."

"Cool. Just let me know if I need to serenade you. Now where is the other half of Blam? I need to get this mantrap off the ground." She smoothed her hands down her thighs angling her body towards the room. "When it's just the two of us it looks like  _we_  are on a date and that is not a message I want out there."

"Blaine's on his way. He made a quick stop or something. Have you heard from Artie? I tried calling and he's not picking up."

"He's okay." Tina answered.

The very night, Blaine had dragged Sam out of Dogma, Lucy had finally given Artie a second look and from that moment on he was simply gone. They were lucky if they got a daily 'I did not die of happiness or from dehydration brought on by the rapid expulsion of seminal fluid' call. The assumption was that he was crashing with her for a little while because most of his stuff was still at their apartment. Sam was happy for him despite how fast they were moving, considering his situation he was certainly in no position to caution him about falling too fast. Since Thanksgiving, Ronan had been off somewhere trying to sabotage Claire's engagement. In celebration, he and Blaine had been practically conjoined in the four days that followed. The word clingy could even be used. On his part. Now Blaine was gone two hours and he missed him like he'd gone off to war. Not even twenty first century war but one of those wars back in the day before satellites and stuff and you had to wait months to receive a fucking letter. Man! When did he get so needy?

With a silent groan, Sam looked around the upscale lounge and found a distraction from his thoughts. "Why are these guys so old?"

"Cause I have seen the light and I am  _not_  going back to dating boys."

"But…they are like twenty years older than you, it's pervy."

"Your pervy is my sexy." She said with a shameless shrug. "I need someone with  _experience_ who can buy me pretty little things."

"A someone who isn't married." Came from over his shoulder, Blaine's hand sliding through his hair.

"Yeah that too." Tina smiled broadly. "I learnt my lesson the first time and whoa! You clean up nice."

Tossing his head back, Sam took in the black suit, black shirt ensemble, perfectly gelled hair and the splashy bow tie. "Whoa!" He echoed Tina's sentiment. Blaine and Tina were like matching sets of sexy while he looked like a hick. "Why didn't you tell me we were dressing up?"

Blaine slid in next to him, hand on his thigh and kissed him lightly. "I did." Kissed him again. "Last night." And again. "Over and over."

"I remember the over and over part." Sam closed his eyes as he reveled in the sensation of his lips against his. When they were together like this all his doubt went away. Blaine wouldn't be with him if he didn't want to be so Sam was going to not let his insecurities dwarf them. No one wanted to date the needy guy that required constant reassurance and he didn't want to be that guy. So from now on he was going to chill.

Ever handy with her phone, Tina flashed insistent on blinding them at every turn. "Are you ever going to stop with the photos?" Blaine blinked reaching for Sam's glass.

"I'm collecting the best ones so they'll fit into one email blast for when you get engaged or pregnant." She tittered. "Whichever comes first."

There had been that thing about that guy in Hawaii but Sam couldn't remember any of the pertinent details. "Men can't get pregnant." He muttered tugging at a few strands that had escaped the raspberry gel and curled seductively over the back of Blaine's neck.

"Oh but you boys sure are giving it a good try if the racket I heard last night is to be believed."

"God, you break one bed and you're labeled for life."

Blaine choked on the swallow of neat whiskey at his words. "We weren't actually…we were horsing around…I mean like wrestling…you know how that is and it broke. The bed. Yeah."

"You don't have to explain yourself to me, jockey." Tina teased. "Ride your horsie as hard and for as long as you like. Now focus you're here for me."

"Which is why I came prepared" Blaine whipped out a small sleek camcorder pointing it right at her. "We can focus on you and collect hours of entertaining footage because you have no game and this is going to be hilarious."

Tina gasped. "I've got game. I meet guys all the time." She turned to Sam. "Tell him."

Sam had watched the little game she played, night after night at Dogma. Once he found himself buying all her drinks and he wasn't entirely sure how it had happened. "What he said."

"All I'm saying is  _you_ don't meet guys, guys meet  _you_." Blaine elaborated "You wear your cute little outfits and sit at the bar and they come in droves, begging, flirting and showering you in drinks."

"Thank god I'm done with that 'impressing on dates' crap." Sam said with zero thought until he caught Blaine's raised brow. "I mean except with you." He appeased. "I will bring my A game on every one of our dates until the end of time."

"Good." Blaine's smile widened, and he nodded "Me too."

"People! Back here." Tina waved her hands, bangles jangling, like she was trying to land a plane. "You've shot down my one move, what the hell am I supposed to do?"

"Stop stressing out. First choose a victim," Blaine glanced around. "What about that one?"

Sam and Tina twisted in their seats and craned their necks. True to type, Blaine had picked the one guy in the bar whose age was closest to theirs.

"Bleugh!" Tina spat. "He's a tool."

"How can you tell?"

"Boyband hair." Then all of a sudden she screeched as a tall guy ducked in and strode past with them. "Ooooh! Chin dimple! Chin dimple!" Her compact was flipped out, face and teeth checked in record time. "He's like Aragorn but hotter. I'm going in."

"Aragorn but hotter? That sentence doesn't even make sense. There is no hotter." Blaine scoffed, as Sam beckoned her closer and asked, "What is your move?"

Tina's shoulders slumped. "Sit next to him and smile. Pray the odds are ever in my favor."

As she left, Sam stole the camera from Blaine tracing the edges of the viewfinder. "Hmmm interesting."

"Don't even think about it. I'm not having sex with you on camera."

"What's the worst thing that could happen?"

Blaine gave a small chuckle, his eyes caught the light flashing gold. "You were a Kardashian in your past life, weren't you?"

The ominous ringtone drowned out his retort. Every time the special ringtone he'd set for his boss went off, Blaine gave him the look, disappointment, hurt. "Fuck! I'm sorry." The words tumbled from Sam's lips as he cut it off. "His highness needs me."

"You're going to miss the fiasco with chin dimple."

Sam glanced over to where the drama with Tina at her flirtiest was already unfolding. If she leaned anymore to the left she was going to tumble right off that stool and hit the floor. _Dammit!_  He was missing it. Handing the camera back to Blaine he got up. "I'll make it up to you." He promised as he lowered his head and kissed him.

"By falling asleep on me? Again?"

"Seriously! It happened once." Sam started to say something more when instead he cleared his throat. He couldn't say he loved him and then run out the door. A declaration like that deserved some postcoital cuddling. "Could you wait up for me?" He asked instead.

"Sure."

ooOoo

Sam zipped through the lobby, slipping into the elevator doors just as one of the other assistants was leaving. Ethan was usually quiet; mousy even when Ronan and Claire were around but the second their backs were turned he was vicious and liberal with the insults. He, like all the other more qualified and experienced five part time assistants Ronan had on rotation hadn't paid him any attention before, now they were emanating palpable resentment. Sam got it. Ideally he would have been at the bottom of the totem pole, doing the grunt work no one else wanted but his position was a little elevated because he answered only to Claire and she was head honcho so everybody hated him. He was pretty sure they thought he was sleeping with Ronan because Sam always stuck around afterwards for their unconventional lessons. All this did was give him a new appreciation for how Tina had felt except in her instance she actually had been schtupping Crazy Chef.

Honestly some days the catty office politics got to him and Sam just wanted to quit and run back to something familiar that was infinitely less stressful. Then he remembered that this was the best opportunity he had to improve his life, if he run from it now he'd just keep falling, quitting until he landed right back on that stage in a glittery jockstrap so he got up and went back to work.

Thankfully Claire was not getting married until next year in the Fall and probably not at all if Ronan's elaborate plans to get rid of her fiancé worked. Sam had that much time to learn everything he'd need to know, work his ass off and earn their respect. If that failed then, hell, he'd just fire them.

The rapping on the wide white door when he got to the top went unanswered and Sam just reached for his key and let himself in stopping at the crunch under his feet and the devastation spread out as far as he could see. Gingerly he stepped round the pointy ivory shards of the vase that used to grace the console table. Surprisingly this wasn't the worst thing he'd seen walking into this apartment unannounced.

"Ro -" He called out. "- nan. Sorry."

"What did I tell you about that?" The man snapped irritated coming in from the terrace. He was still on the right side of drunk; the bottle in his hand would get him their fast.

"What happened?" Sam focused on the mottled stains on the white couch that he really hoped was red wine.

"We had a fight."

Great! The boyfriend. In their little soap opera that Sam now had a ringside seat to; Ray had been cast in the role of gold-digger. He didn't do anything with his life, which was super weird, just partied all night, slept all day and mooched off his rich boyfriend. Claire hated him repeatedly called him a user. Sam disagreed with her assessment - not out loud - but Ray struck him as the kind of guy who'd come into the relationship with the best of intentions then along the way he realized he'd fallen for a guy who'd always be in love with someone else. It'd been too late to leave so he took what he could get, turning his disappointment into avarice. Sam could relate to his situation. Not the mooching or the idleness but the rest of it hit a little too close to home. Blaine and Kurt; the other drama he was a part of that had fuck all to do with him. Stopping Sam took a deep breath, steadied. He was just on edge because Blaine had been wearing that fucking ring. That was all.

"This isn't a fight; it's like a huge domestic thing." He continued, straightening a dented lamp and returning the poker to its rightful place. "He trashed all your shit. You wanna call the cops?"

"Nah! Not worth it."

"So you called me to clean up?"

"I already called the service. Come."

Following behind him Sam battled curiosity. Usually he tried not to get all up in his boss' business but this was madness… "What happened?"

"He hates dogs, always has."

"You bought a dog?"

"Not me!" He rambled gesturing with the half full bottle. "Jules. They adopted a dog together. Like look at me, my boyfriend and our tiny fucking dog and our perfect life, right? Like who gives a shit?"

Ronan obviously did which is why he stalked his ex online. It was so messed up.

By now Sam knew the story of Jules. The first boyfriend. They were high school sweethearts had a whirlwind – on the DL - romance until Jules convinced Ronan to come out publicly the summer before college and introduce him to his family. He did. The Ashwoods did not take it well and thus commenced a smear campaign on two fronts; blackmail and bribery that lasted for months. Jules decided he couldn't take the pressure and the scrutiny anymore and he bailed sending Ronan into a self-destructive spiral – the front pages with the Senator - that six years later was showing no signs of abetting. It probably accounted for most of his binge drinking and drug use.

A month ago Sam had envied his life. Now, he was so happy to just be himself.

He took the unused pad Ronan handed him knowing the drill. He'd sketch while Ronan turned him into a therapist and got progressively more and more wasted.

"These are crayons." Sam's head shot up from the Crayola in his hand.

"No kidding!" Came the sardonic reply.

Finding a comfortable spot, Sam started to draw the man stretched out on the bed, when he turned over; Sam merely put that page aside and started a new one.

He had learned over the past weeks not just to manage the job but also to manage the man himself. Ronan was very serious about his work. As long as there was a camera, brush, pencil whatever artistic implement in his hand he was focused, dedicated, driven but when there wasn't, he reverted back to his hard partying, drunk and or high, constant attention seeking, inappropriate self. Sam spent most days ducking and weaving to avoid his several mood changes and yet still anticipate his every need. He and Claire had a different rapport, they were childhood friends so she could yell when he made outrageous requests Sam didn't have the same luxury. It wasn't uncommon for Ronan to call him in the middle of the night and send him on a fool's errand like the tale of his insomnia which turned into 'The World's Dumbest Pillow Hunt'.

Sam continued to draw keeping an eye on the bottle wondering how many interns had this on their to-do list. Make sure your bipolar boss doesn't accidentally kill himself. He lost his concentration when Ronan suddenly asked, "How is um - Blaine?"

"He is good." Sam said carefully, no inflection so as not to spark his curiosity and he certainly didn't need another invitation to his mini orgies. He thought he'd succeeded until;

"Is he your first?" Ronan persisted undeterred. "Love? Is he your first love?"

Maybe because Sam and Blaine had been friends before or because they lived together, their relationship had accelerated beyond regular speed. Pedal to the metal. There was never any down time. But somewhere along the way Sam had started think of him as his first  _everything_. He had always fallen easily but this was beyond anything he'd ever experienced. It had put all the relationships he had before him into perspective and they paled in comparison.

"Yes he's the first." He confessed.

"How does he feel about your less than stellar past?"

Sam started drawing again hoping the broad strokes would keep away 'The thing they never talked about' but Ronan was relentless.

"He seems like the virtuous type. What's he doing dabbling with a bad boy?"

"Blaine is not – like that. He can be very principled and stuff but…"

"They are all fucking angels until you step out of line. Then it's Sayonara loser and Hello, fellow virtuous idiot, let's buy a tiny dog and share our perfect lives." Sam just wanted to tell him to shut up because he didn't want to hear it. Ronan sat up looking him right in the eye imparting his awful wisdom. "All love is conditional. You should enjoy it while it lasts because…tick…tock." After a tense minute in which Sam had stopped doing anything he said, "Ignore me, Gin makes me so fucking maudlin it's like I start hearing harp music or some shit. I'm sure you two will be fine." And then he lay back down like he hadn't just confirmed everything Sam had been thinking.

Sam stayed there with him in silence for hours, both of them bleeding from invisible wounds. By the time he got home he felt soured on sentiment. He didn't want to think about it but his stupid brain couldn't stop making connections, drawing parallels. In his triangle, was he Ray? Trapped between Ronan and his forever love Jules. Resting his elbows on the kitchen island he stared in the darkness down the long hallway to the sliver of light streaking out from under Blaine's door. He'd always loved that, how no matter how late Sam was getting home; he always left a light on for him. It was merely the tip of the huge fucking iceberg of things that Sam loved about him.

When the door swung open he jerked back. Too late.

"Hey, what are you doing out here?" Blaine came over swinging onto a high stool besides him. "Did he fire you again?" On a very good day, Ronan only fired him once, when he screwed up. Sam had only panicked like the first dozen times but he was getting used to the way he operated and Ronan both was and wasn't the point.

"No…" Sam turned, words crawling up his throat still like a coward he sat there afraid to speak up and tip the scale away from him and back towards Kurt. "I –" He closed his eyes thought about how much Blaine hated his stripping and what it meant that they'd never once talked about it since they got together. "Would you have kissed me the first time if I was still stripping?"

"What?" Blaine asked but it was the way his hand slid off Sam's arm that hurt, that burned.

"Would we be together now?" Sam could still himself talking, digging in deeper but now that he'd started he didn't know how to stop especially since Blaine was on his feet actually backing away from him.

"I don't know what you want me to say."

"The truth would be nice."

Shuffling from foot to foot, gazing somewhere over Sam's shoulder, Blaine increased the distance between them. "I don't want to ever lie to you so' No' I probably wouldn't have kissed you."

"That's my answer isn't it?" Even if he'd been expecting it, there was a moment, a little hope that Sam had been clinging to that now died out, choking and wailing, mourning as it left.

"If we start lying to each other then it will never end." Blaine stammered but Sam could barely hear him anyway. Maybe he'd been giving off these signals all the time that this thing between them was temporary but Sam had been too busy building this future in his head...he was such an idiot.

"I'm never going to be a real option for you, am I? No matter how much I love you, I'm always going to carry this  _stain_  that you can never get past? I will never be good enough for you." Sam heard his voice and he was ashamed of its pathetic desperation. "I will never be K –"

"Sam. No –" Blaine stopped when he got up. "What – where are you going?"

"I need to walk." Actually he needed to lie down but they'd broken his bed so he was going to walk because if he stayed he was going to do something even more shameful, like cry and of the many shameful things he'd been through in his life, that would surely be the worst.

"You can't just - leave. We need to talk about this."

Sam didn't want to talk, words broke you. Still he tried, slogging through the effort of it. "I'm in love you, you know. It's all I have. If that's never enough for you then I have no idea what we are doing together."

When he hit the street, he just kept on walking trying to convince himself that it was just love. It only had as much power as you gave it even though sometimes he felt like he was standing all alone clapping his hands for all he was worth so Tinkerbell could live again.


	22. Chapter 22

In a daze, Blaine took a hesitant step forward then stopped and stood there torn, the slam of the door still ringing in his ears.

_What the hell did you just do?_

"What the fuck is the matter with you?" Blaine jumped as Tina descended on him with all the fury of a mother protecting her young. "How could you say that to him?"

He didn't need this. Not when he could barely process thought or feeling. Sam had left. He'd actually left. "Tina. Not now."

"Blaine…"

"Stay out of it." He snapped turning on her. "You don't have to be involved in every little thing that's going on with us all the time."

"Fine." She snarled flouncing off. "Figure it out on your own."

Staring at the door like Sam would come back through, Blaine waited, pummeled by questions. Where was he going? It was after midnight. Should he go after him or give him a chance to calm down? Most importantly, why the hell had he chosen tonight to start being so honest? In the middle of the cavalcade of questions was a brief pause…a refreshing oasis from the brutal fear…the briefest respite in which he could breathe.

_He loves me. He loves me._

He swore softly. God, Sam could be such a hothead sometimes. If he had only let him finish…

_He wouldn't be out there thinking you don't love him back._

Finding his phone Blaine dialed, "Sammy, pick up the phone." He whispered. Hang up and dialed again over and over and over. Sam didn't answer. He clung to the only truth he could.  _He loves me. He's not gone forever. He loves me. He will come back._  At the last dial, his phone was busy. Tina. Of course.

Blaine's hands formed fists till his knuckles shone white. Rapping sharply on her door he pushed right in finding her lying on her belly stiff with anger. Tina continued to toy with her phone not acknowledging his presence. Grinding his teeth, he prayed for patience. "Where is he?"

"As per your dumbass request, I'm staying out of it."

"Dammit Tina!" He swallowed hard. Arguing with her wasted valuable time. "Okay, I'm sorry I yelled at you. I'm just – please. Where is he?'

"I don't know. He won't tell me because apparently he thinks I will tell  _you_."

Chilled to the bone, heart thudding, Blaine crossed his arms rubbing desperately at the cooling flesh. "Is he okay?"

"Since he's still on the move, it's safe to assume that all his limbs are still functional despite you ripping his heart from his chest." Undeterred she launched into another tirade. "How could you? Sam is crazy about you. Why can't you for once let all your shit go and just be happy?"

Blaine quivered under the verbal onslaught. "I didn't mean what I said."'

Tina blew past his feeble explanation. "Sam was starting to feel good about his life, his job and -  _you_. He was happy. Everything was finally going his way then you pulled the rug right out from under him." She looked at him like she'd entrusted Sam with him and he'd let them both down. The weight of that disappointment crushed down on him. "But you know what? He's tough. It may take awhile but he will survive you."

"I don't want him to survive me."

"Then fix it."

"How?" Blaine couldn't shake the feeling that she knew something but it was quickly coming to his attention how close the two of them were. Even if she knew where he was, she wouldn't tell him if Sam had asked her not to. All he could do was appeal to her romantic sensibilities that were buried deep, deep down… "I – I need him…Tina, I can't make it better if I can't find him."

She rolled her eyes then gave him her patented 'you are an idiot' face. "Haven't you figured it out yet? He can't say 'no' to you. Why do you think he's not picking up when you call?"

Blaine had no idea what she was talking about. Sam said 'no' to him all the time, okay that was a broad exaggeration. Sam teased him and sometimes he laughed at him but it was undeniable how mostly he bent over backwards to please him. Blaine never questioned it. Never questioned how their relationship had changed and Sam had simply adapted. Never questioned how he'd been everything Blaine needed, giving him a chance to get right with himself. After all he'd been through, he'd simply accepted Sam's affection as his due. The past couple of months had devolved into hell, he'd limped away disillusioned about love with  _a lot_  of emotional scars and he'd needed this. The little slices of heaven that Sam provided with his smiles and his heart and his pure, pure love - an unmistakable love. Sam wore his heart on his sleeve. How had he missed it? Why hadn't he stopped to check in on him? Make sure he was doing okay? He'd focused on all the wrong things. Worrying about his sexuality instead of marveling at the miracle it was that Sam wasn't going through an identity crisis.

Blaine had hated it when all his exes did that to him. How they took and they took and now here he was doing the exact same thing, using him as a happy pill, letting him contort himself to fit Blaine's ideals. It was worse because he knew Sam, he knew the only thing he ever really wanted was to be loved. He needed the words.

He left Tina. He doubted she even noticed she was too busy nattering on about giving out medals for stupid.

The green mile of walks led him to Sam's room. Even under the watery stream of moonlight streaking in through the open curtains, it was as familiar to him as his own. A long ago present from Britt, a single dolphin cufflink glinted on the dresser, his beat up guitar by the three legged bed, the collection of recent family photos he'd printed out and stuck to the closet door, the handful of sketches still above his writing desk except now they were all drawings of Blaine. His face, his hands, his body…he had woken on more than one occasion to find Sam sketching him. Once, looking so freaking guilty when he busted him poking at his dick with the blunt end (thank god) of his pencil like an inquisitive child with his first garden snake, showering him with a random explanation about finding the perfect light. Too tired to care, Blaine merely warned him about keeping the drawings private and went back to sleep. The memory of it brought a smile to his face. His life! Who else would that ever happen with?

Perching on Sam's bed, slightly angled to make up for the uneven surface, Blaine deliberated his face lit by the glow from his screen.  _He can't say no to you._  Could it really be that simple? Then he texted, "Come home."

And he waited. Humming softly to himself, lyrics drifting, chasing the tune to 'Lost in the Tree's Time Taunts Me' forcing Blaine to acknowledge all the ways he'd changed.

 _Time taunts me_  says,  _you're getting older._

_Are you growing colder, hmm?"_

_And time and time again, I doubt who I am._

_What a tragic ending._

_Don't let go of my hand._

_And today, I'll give you all my time._

_And you can count on me, for you look so tired._

_And today, it's time for you to rest._

_I know you've done your best, so rest your aching mind._

It felt like no time at all had passed before Sam darkened the doorway. Blaine sat up, twisting to face him frustrated because his face still lay in shadow and he couldn't really read him. His stance was guarded, closed off. He focused on the way Sam had dropped everything and come home. From a text…it was unbelievable. "You love me." Blaine said. It wasn't a question. It was certainty.

"Good thing you heard it the first time because I am not repeating it." Sam moved now, stepped further into the room. Blaine could see it now. It was all over his face how Blaine's lack of commitment was hurting him.

Ashamed, he ducked his head. Stalled. "Where were you heading?"

"I was going to crash at Charlie's"

 _Fucking Charlie!_  God that man was always in his way and just when Blaine had decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. Gripping the comforter in a stranglehold, he struggled to take charge of his irattional jealousy but he must have given something away. A small sound which set Sam off.

"You've got to be kidding me with this. You think I want to go? He lives in a hole in Chinatown. The fucking rats in his building look like they've been through boot camp. This is a palace compared to his apartment. Why else do you think he's here all the time?"

 _For you. I think he's here for you._  Blaine thought it, just didn't say it. He shoved the possessive mutterings deep down. Dwelling on a nonexistent rival was pointless because as much as he dithered and digressed. He knew  _he_  was the real problem. Sam was running from  _him_  and his inability to commit. The argument about stripping was merely a front, Sam was feeling insecure and he was acting out.

He opened his mouth, and then closed it again grappling with the heart of the matter. "Do I make you feel that way? Like you are alone in this? As if  _you_  will never be a  _real option_  for me?" Using Sam's words was hard because they were harsh and indicative of his state of mind, of a failure on Blaine's part to make him feel loved, wanted. He always felt that way in Sam's presence. Safe. Like he was with someone who'd never hurt him and the thought that Sam didn't feel the same with him was – devastating.

Sam walked across the room, stared out the window for a long minute, then turned to look at him again. His restless roaming along with the averted gaze was putting Blaine on edge, he was sure he was going to walk right back out the door. "No but you've gone back to Kurt thrice now. That's  _your move_ , Blaine. You go back to Kurt. I don't want to think about this… I don't want to deal with it but if there is a chance that you are going to go back to him a fourth time because I'm so fucking flawed then I don't want to be here for it."

A gurgling gulf of pure hurt lay between them. There were any number of things Blaine could have done to win him back over. He was a master at bringing romance, always handy with the perfect song to express exactly how he felt. He could sell anything with somebody else's words. All flash and no substance but here in this room with Sam deliberately not looking at him; he was at a complete loss as to how to comfort him. Grand romantic gestures had their place and Blaine learned the hard way that if you couldn't maintain the same level of passion and sincerity when there was no one else around then you were screwed.

"Dude…"

 _Fuck!_   _This was bad._  He was calling him dude again. If that wasn't Sam distancing himself and tunneling for an exit then he didn't know what was.

"I've been thinking…"

Desperation spilled out of Blaine in a shivery rush. "Sammy. No."

"I've been thinking," Sam insisted. "We should break up, I am fooling myself. You and Kurt are one of those couples that are always going to be a couple whether you're together or not. In six years, I don't want to be a crazy stalker flipping out because you and Kurt adopted a dog or a cat. More likely a bird because you said Kurt is a bird guy. It will be better if I leave." His argument held no real fire like he was giving up on them already and that scared Blaine more than anything.

Skirting the larger declaration, Blaine unclenched his fists and started small, building up to what he wanted to say; right now all he needed was to get him to listen. "I used to wonder what it'd be like."

"What?" Sam mumbled.

Yes! A modicum of interest. "Being with you. It was always there, a lingering thought in the back of my mind. Every time we talked. I wondered. Every time I was sad, weak, broken – I thought about you. There were days when you were all I thought about, dreamed about."

Still clouded by his insecurity Sam said raggedly. "And now that you've had the real thing you're disappointed."

"No. Never. Sam, you are better than any dream of you that I ever had. Being with you is the easiest thing I've ever done. I'm so sorry I got so caught up in working on myself I forgot to take care of you. Forgot to tell you that I feel more myself when I'm with you." Words turbulent, shaky poured out of him. "I don't want to break up and it kills me that I almost let something as dumb as you stripping stop us for so long, but it doesn't excuse you doing the same now. I'm not even against strippers per se I just don't want  _you_  doing it. Call it jealousy or whatever – just - the past is in the past, White Chocolate. We both need to let it go."

"What about when I fuck up? Because I do sometimes – like a lot. If I end up going back to it."

"You changed your destiny Sam, you are not going back. I won't let you."

"But if it happened."

"I wouldn't be okay with it but I would still love you. No matter what." Blaine studied the play of emotions on his face, disbelief, suspicion, a desperate hope. So he used words to shore up his declaration until a time when it could stand on its own. "I think the octopus incident is when I first knew. God! Sam, there was a spoon right there but it's like you couldn't stand to have it suffer for one more second." No wonder he'd he'd put out so quickly.

"It was stupid." Sam mumbled automatically cradling his hand. "They probably served him up to another table the moment we left."

"Doesn't matter. It was kind." Getting to his feet he approached him slowly, relieved when Sam let him join their hands. " _You are so good to me._  I never knew how much I needed that until you. To have someone say its okay that I messed up, comfort me through it - no one else has ever – you have no idea how much it means to me. You're good with me and you're good for me."

"Really?"

Blaine's kissed away his doubt. "I love you, Sam and I can't go back to being without you." He paused, leery about exposing his 'commitment addict' OCD but he'd always wanted to be desired desperately and loved purely. He had all that with Sam. No point holding back. "I made  _plans_  for us. They are vague and unformed but I think about us, you know, a future for us."

"What kind of plans?"

Blaine's breath whooshed out as Sam ambled across the carpet next to him and they sat down together. "In a year or so, we could get our own place, just the two of us. In the same building as Tina because let's be honest if I try separating you two there might be picketing….riots…an actual assassination attempt." Blaine made jokes but he'd seen how much she cared for Sam, how much she loved him. Fiercely. Loyally. There was no doubt in his mind that if Sam ever really left him, Tina was sure as hell leaving with him. Sam needed people like that in his corner, he deserved to be loved that much.

Sam laughed but he did not dispute his claim. "What else?"

"Well, you'll do your art thing and I will do something – still working on that part." He added at Sam's quizzical frown. "I promise not to propose right away. Given our history with marriage; my ex-fiancé and your ex-wife it's probably better that we wait awhile." Sam smiled nodding enthusiastically at his attempt to make light of the matter. "I do promise to think about it every day."

Sam turned and looked him directly in the eye, "Sorry, I flipped out and took off."

Instead of coddling him, Blaine shot for honesty; he meant it when he said he'd never lie to him. "You cannot do that again. Sam, love is easy, relationships are hard." Blaine pronounced firmly. "We can never lose sight of each other the way we just did. If something's bothering you, you tell me. Yell if you want, just don't walk away from me. You stay and we work it out."

Like a man settling down for the very last time, Sam leaned against him, exhaled. "I promise."

"I love you, Sam"

"You think you can keep saying it for a while?"

"I love you." Blaine repeated. "I choose you. Only you."

ooOoo

Rounding one of the scuffed tables that still reeked of stale beer, Blaine continued to explain, giving Sam the tour at his new gig. "It boomed in the early Eighties. All the up and coming bands played here, later as it became more popular it was a favored spot to begin or end tours. Can you imagine the history in this place?" He glanced at Sam again. He needed him to get it.

After Blaine had admitted that he was taking a semester off from NYADA to recalibrate and figure his life out before he wasted even more time and money on college. They'd disagreed over his decision. He knew Sam was worried that he wouldn't end up going back but there was no need. Blaine had a plan for his –  _their_  future. The past year might have gotten out of hand but he was focused now, determined. There were any number of performing arts schools or conservatories he could get into, he planned to spend the next couple of months narrowing them down and preparing his audition pieces. Hell, down the road, he could go to Law school if he wanted. The future was wide open, he could do anything. In the meantime, he had the Roadhouse.

"This is where you've been going?" Sam asked like he'd finally gotten an answer to a particularly troublesome question.

"Yes. Sam, legends were born here." Blaine beseeched. "I've been kinda – lost and I was drawn here. Literally. I was across the street and I saw that freaking iconic Roadhouse sign and it was like I was meant to be here. I mean – I know, it's not the musical Mecca it once was…"

"It's a dump." Sam told him, stubbornly clinging to his side of the argument. "A dump with a dead guy in the corner. You are too good for places like this."

Blaine frowned at his interruption, he checked out the man passed out at one of the tables, easing when he snuffled in his drunken stupor. "He isn't dead. Can I finish now?  _And –_ After the hatchet job the economy has wrecked on its finances  _and_  its popularity being superseded by places like The Way Station, there isn't much left to it. But as long as it's open - which probably won't be for much longer - it would be a miracle for me to play here. Even once."

"Play?" Sam turned around genuinely confused. "Play what?"

While he wasn't entirely on board, at least Sam hadn't outwardly called him crazy. Grabbing his hand, Blaine led him to the northern wall that made up the stage; it was the only part of the entire building that was still pristine. As if the entire fate of the establishment rested on its conservation. Too bad he couldn't say the same about the piano that inhabited it. "I talked to the owner and convinced him – by convinced I mean begged shamelessly for like four straight days – anyway, Billie says if I can fix it, I can play here every couple of days." Carefully pulling the white sheet he'd placed the last time he'd been in, Blaine exposed his instrument to his boyfriend's doubtful gaze. "I'm going to play this." As Sam twisted still searching the room, he asked, "What? What are you looking for?"

"The time machine that is going to make that possible."

It took a few short steps for Blaine to sock him in the shoulder. "Don't insult Bessie. She's had a couple of tough years but I'm going to restore her to her former glory."

"Bessie?" Sam chortled. "Bessie and Blaine sitting on a tree..."

"Shhh! Ignore him." Blaine whispered over Sam's laughter. Stroking the splotchy lid, he surveyed the obvious damage. Not only were her rack, prop and bench long gone but she also had rusty pedals, sticky keys and missing strings. If he'd wanted a new piano, he could have dug into his savings and purchased one or more likely conned one out of his mom or Cooper but Blaine wanted to do this, he wanted to put in the work and restore her. Every small restoration replaced a little bit of himself that he'd lost. As she took on new hope, new form so did he.

"Cuddle bunny, you are breaking my heart." Sam teased. "I never thought the day would come when you'd make me jealous of a woman."

Bessie forgotten, Blaine spun around at the silly pet name. Since their implosion, Sam had called him nothing but Blaine. Even though they'd ostensibly patched things up that night, a part of Sam was still cautious, braced for pain. Love and trust were two different emotions and while Sam obviously, glaringly loved him, the trust that Blaine wouldn't hurt him again wasn't so readily apparent. Until that moment. A cuddle bunny moment. The knotty corners of his soul that had still existed since their fight unraveled. For it was then he knew with absolute certainty that they were going to be okay. Surging to his toes, Blaine kissed him, slow and sweet. "I love you Sam."

Sam grinned wickedly. "Took you long enough."

Tossing his head back, Blaine looked into his eyes. This beautiful man was his, all his. "Why can't you say 'I love you too' like a normal person?"

Pulling him back in, Sam pressed his body against his, kissing his forehead, his cheek then his lips. "I love you too babe, you know I do."

Blaine nodded and melted into him.

A while later, Sam set him free. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he looked around. "Are you sure you wanna do this? All of it?"

There was no doubt in Blaine's mind that this was exactly what he needed right now. "Definitely."

"Then I'm on board." Sam took a step closer, stole a kiss. "Definitely. Whatever you need."

Sam was leaning against Bessie, listening as Blaine outlined his plan for her.

"Hey." Sam broke into his rambling. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Do you think Kurt hates me?"

The question came out of nowhere and completely blindsided him. For the most part, Blaine was still in his own little world dealing with his failed relationship with Kurt and up until this point, he'd assumed that the catastrophic beginning of  _their_  relationship didn't bother Sam. "You think about that kind of stuff?"

"Of course I think about it." He said with a slow shake of his head. "Kurt was nice to me. His family – Finn – they took me in, cared about me…now I'm the asshole that stole his boyfriend. I keep thinking I should call him or something but I don't know what to say to him and I'm the last person he wants to hear from - make that second last after you."

"Preach!" Blaine muttered pulling a small laugh out of Sam.

"I'm just saying – this kinda thing - sorry ain't gonna cut it especially since I'm sorry he got hurt but I'm not sorry you picked me." His green gaze locked with his with troubled conviction.

God! The heart on this boy. His compassion. Blaine could see clear through to the man Sam would grow into and it was amazing. Slipping over, his hand curled around his, holding on even as he ached for him. They were in this together. Sam admitting it halved his burden and in a weird way his admission of guilt – as victor, Sam could just as easily have been bad mouthing Kurt or triumphing over his spoils – but that admission of guilt made Blaine respect him more. Sighing, he tightened his grip and said, "He's probably going to hate us both for awhile."

"This is the darkest timeline and we are the super villains. Time to hang up the capes, Evil Abed."

"I'm Evil Troy." Blaine argued.

"No way,  _I'm_  Evil Troy."

Manic scratching that erupted in Bessie's belly ruined the moment, Sam stood. "What the hell was that?"

"I think there's like a mini dragon or something living in there. We probably woke him." Blaine backed away. The last time he'd been trying to survey the interior damage, he'd spotted a hint of scales around the dampers. Bottom line was he'd slammed the lid and not been inside since.

Sam chuckled, looking far too pleased with himself. "You are afraid of lizards?"

"I don't fear them." Blaine shuddered. "I hate them. And their little clawed feet creep me out so I was thinking, since you're so hell bent on being supportive. Pop the hood and fish him out. I'm going to stand way waaaaay over there."

"Why do _I_  have to get him?"

"Uh – I love you."

"You can't use love when you want me to do stuff like this."

"I can't hear you." Blaine insisted. He could hear him fine. The acoustics in this old building were incredible but Sam had overplayed his hand; Blaine knew how much he loved him, that he'd do anything for him. Good thing that went both ways. At a far enough distance he ordered, "Try and shoo him outside but if you can't, don't murder him in Bessie. I don't want her turned into a crime scene."

Giving him a put upon shrug, Sam took a deep breath and popped the lid starting a search for the elusive reptile. Blaine promised himself that for the rest of their lives, he could take care of the other creepy-crawlies – depending on the ick factor of their feet.


	23. Chapter 23

Blaine flipped onto his belly and burrowed under the covers, pulling the pillow over his head. The soft giggling still reached him and dragged him from slumber. Even the warm press of Sam's thigh along his shoulder failed to soothe him. He knew they weren't trying to wake him but the whispering was worse than if they'd been using their regular speaking voices. Pressing his hands over his ears he proceeded to count the heads he hacked off sheep, none of it helped. The sandman danced out of reach, getting further and further away with each breathy vowel. This was not the first night they'd woken him, to hope it would be the last was foolish.

In his absence, Sam and Tina had bonded; melded even, with their systems and routines, and the never-ending chatter. The weekly meetings to sort out Sam's finances that dissolved into idle gossip… Honestly, some days Blaine felt like he was dating both of them. It was exhausting.

Blaine loved Tina, he did. He just didn't love her quite so much at 2am when she got back from her dates, kind of wasted, woke them (Sam) up and insisted on sharing every unsavory detail with them (Sam). His boyfriend got a kick out of it; in fact Sam insisted she wake him up when she got home. And if she ever felt threatened or unsafe with one of her men, she'd call and - now a walking talking encyclopedia about crime statistics in New York City - Sam would go get her, Blaine tugging along reluctantly. Luckily most of her dates ended like this, the princes walked her to their door and she came in to share the less than princely things they did together. Oddly enough Sam was willing to go hang in her room for the duration but Blaine would rather they annoyed him than leave.

"He has a crooked wang." He heard her whisper. "Not even like regular crooked, I'm talking 90 degrees kinda crooked."

"No way?" His Sam. Forever curious.

"I've got a photo." She insisted.

 _Photo?_  What? Now Blaine was fully awake and dammit  _he_  kinda wanted to see it.

"Why would he let you take a picture of his junk?"

"I didn't take it. He acted like a perfect gentleman all night, pulling out chairs, opening doors. Then I step inside this door and its like boom –  _dick pic_. Here, check it out."

Blaine felt the bed dip and Sam start to laugh.

"I am never seeing  _him_ again."

It was the last straw. Tossing off the pillow, Blaine fought his way to the surface, cleared his throat. "Why is it always about sex with you two?" Their heads swiveled in his direction, both of them staring at him like the odd sticky thing you found at the bottom of your shoe but he soldiered on, turning to Sam who was propped up by a pillow, looking rumpled and so sexy in the warm glow of the single lit lamp. He thought their sex life was really great because they were fundamentally connected at more than just their groins. Their relationship had a solid foundation. "What about good conversation, a real friendship, affection, intimacy, love? Sam and I are good together because we have all those qualities. You need to stop judging your dates on these drunken horny windows in time when their guards are down and everything else is  _up_. They could be great guys. Give them a chance."

"Jeez sweetie," Tina giggled. "Save something for the vows."

"Why do I bother?"

"I heard everything you just said and here's my counter argument." Tina shoved her phone at him. "Even if I had all the love from every cliché Katherine Heigl romcom ever released, it still wouldn't make this dick any straighter."

Blaine dragged the screen closer to his face. Ouch! That was one crooked penis. It pointed downward in a way that looked super painful. "Okay, I admit you dodged a bullet on this one, looks like it could  _lodge_  places. Who is this guy…wait… I don't want to know. If he ever comes over, this is literally all I will be thinking about." Handing Tina back her phone, he curled up, resting his head on Sam's lap thrilling when his hands slid into his hair, softly kneading his scalp. "As you were." He instructed.

Tina launched into another story about yet another random thing that had happened to her earlier. Blaine merely snuggled in, Sam's stroking threatening to pull purrs from his throat. Loving the little zing he got when Sam's hand stopped moving and he leaned over pressed a kiss to his forehead and whispered, "I love you too." Smiling faintly, Blaine closed his eyes. This was nice. He could definitely spend the rest of his life like this. Then he slept.

ooOoo

Blaine sighed as the amused proprietor left him to serve yet another more decisive customer. Placing the honest to god Mini Robot back down on the counter, his fingertips hovered over the price tag. Maybe they were having a holiday sale and the price had been dropped to $49.99. Flipping it, he scanned the label and huffed in disappointment. No such luck. Sam would have gotten such a kick out of it. It was absolutely perfect for him. So was the phone that he needed because he'd cracked his screen or the gorgeous JCrew cashmere sweater that perfectly complimented his green eyes or the set of engraved guitar picks or the endless number of gifts that Blaine had considered, some of which he'd already purchased which was ridiculous because he couldn't give any of them to him. Why had he agreed to the fifty-dollar limit? This was torture.

It was their first Christmas and Blaine wanted to give him the world. But they'd agreed and he didn't want to make Sam feel bad because he couldn't afford to shower him in lavish gifts as well. Shaking his head at the gray haired gentleman, he exited the store before he could hear the pointless sales pitch for the third time. It was late, his feet were killing him and the jingling of bells and overly cheerful carols blaring from every single corner was giving him a headache. Resolving to head home and start the search over again the next day, he elbowed his way through the teeming crowd and ducked into a nearby bookstore that boasted a tiny coffee shop. He joined the line waiting to place his order. Spiced Gingerbread latte and a small bag of Christmas cookies in hand, he eyed the comfy couches dying to curl up with a good book but he had to get home. He debated but the lure was too great, he'd sit for one second then leave. Thirty minutes later, fingers poised to turn the page he looked up from The Luminaries completely convinced that Eleanor Catton had deserved the Man Booker prize. As the door swung open, his hand automatically raised in greeting when he saw Kurt enter, lowering when he remembered that his presence was unlikely to be welcomed. He'd completely forgotten that it was Kurt who'd introduced him to this place.

Frozen, Blaine watched him settle onto one of the couches that overlooked the street. Kurt hadn't seen him. He could slip out, vanish into the crowd and the other boy would never know they'd occupied this same patch of earth even for a little while but - Blaine would know. It had been over a month since the disastrous meeting on the NYADA stairs. Not nearly enough time for Kurt's hurt to fade but Christmas had been their favorite time of year. All his favorite memories of the holiday involved Kurt in some small way and it felt strange for them to not even be speaking. It was selfish of him to keep pushing for forgiveness and a friendship but just this morning thoughts of his ex had assaulted him as he'd gone past the ice rink at Rockefeller Center. And running into Kurt now…this had to be a sign.

Heavy steps led him across the room, "Hi." He muttered. Kurt reeled back, his eyes shooting over his shoulder then back down to his hands. He did not seem happy to see him. Blaine thought about leaving but it'd taken so much effort to get this far, he wouldn't just give up. "Do you want me to go?"

Kurt studied him for a while, and then he shook his head. "It's okay. I'm early anyway so you can sit for a bit. Just a bit. I'm meeting someone."

It was the very careful way he said 'someone' that tipped Blaine off. He sank down into the proffered chair. "Someone? Like a date someone? You're dating?" He jumped in far too eagerly. Then he reined himself in, he was definitely endorsing this too hard. "I'm sorry. Your love life is none of my business." It wasn't anymore but Kurt dating was a good thing. A very good thing. This guy could be the one. They would fall in love, Kurt would be happy, forgive Blaine and they could all go back to being friends.  _It could happen._  Maybe not quite that easily but a guy could dream.

"Stop weaving your little romantic fantasies." Kurt drawled. "It's only a second date."

"I'm not weaving anything."

"I know you."

"I just – " Blaine stammered in the face of his skepticism. "I hope he's a nice guy."

Kurt gave a hard laugh then quipped, "He can't be worse than my last boyfriend." Then he blushed, threw him an apologetic glance. "Sorry. It's kind of hard to turn it off."

At least he was trying. "It's okay. I deserve it."

They fell into a weighty silence staring out at the world as last minute shoppers ducked for cover as the sky opened up, pelting them with a cold wet drizzle.

"So…Christmas huh?" Kurt broke the standoff. "What does Christmas look like in Hamilton Heights?"

Feeling a bit lighter, Blaine smiled at the memory. "Hopefully nothing like Thanksgiving. There was high decibel screaming… charred dinner… and at least one threat of castration." He'd had a plan and his roommates had bulldozed right through it. "Not all the cooking brandy went into the pot…at 10am." He explained.

Kurt leaned back amused, hands on his crossed knees. "That must be a huge adjustment for you."

Blaine managed to contain the resounding 'Yes!' Finally! Someone that got it. It wasn't like he was insanely Type A. He wasn't. He just liked things  _organized._  His Thanksgiving plan had been awesome. Since the four of them were basically a family – sorta - and no one was heading back to Lima for the holiday; he had thought it a good idea for them to blend different dishes from their different backgrounds. You know, form a new potluck tradition. But it all fell apart when Artie didn't bother to show up, Sam's 'Hakuna Matata' approach to life insisted that he try cooking something new and he chose Salmon –  _Bloody Fish!_  Half of it ended up black and stuck to the bottom of the pan. Tina refused to cook and instead argued that she shouldn't have to feed them because she was the girl, this argument eventually devolved into an epic feminist rant. At the end of the day, all Blaine could do was join them in a distinctly nontraditional Spicy chicken and coconut curry dinner and finish the cheap brandy. But Christmas was going to be different. He had a plan. Okay. A better plan than the last one and dammit he was going to get everybody to sit at a table at the same time and act like halfway decent human beings because that is what families did.

"It gets pretty crazy but I'm adapting."

"Well - I'm simply stunned that you are bucking the Blaine Anderson way. Putting up with all that insanity? You must really - " Kurt trailed off, picking at non existent loose thread on his pants. "Love him."

The ends of that sentence hang in the air shifting the mood. Blaine hesitated unsure about what to say. He did truly love Sam. Completely adored him. It was a love he'd hoped for, prayed for. Now that he got it, he wouldn't change it for anything. Chaos was part of the package that came with being with Sam and he had to find a way to cope with the madness every single day. The part that completely blew his mind was, he had no desire to change him. He loved that Sam could be unpredictable; off the wall, kind of wacky yet still manage to make him feel completely safe. They complimented each other. He was logic to Sam's emotion. Him, with his feet firmly on the ground balanced out Sam's constant head in the clouds spirit. On those days when their roles reversed, he was still with someone who got him.

But to say that to Kurt would be to deliberately hurt him, he already knew the truth why rub it in. Instead, Blaine tentatively offered an olive branch. "You could come over, you know, for Christmas dinner. I can't guarantee any edible food but - fingers crossed - we might manage to squeeze in a trip to the ER."

"No. I mean…thank you but I don't…it's too soon" Kurt glanced at him. "Maybe next year."

Blaine berated himself, he knew it was too soon to ask but they'd been getting along, actually talking and he'd gotten carried away. "Yeah of course, next year would be fine." He made to get up. Paused. "Did you get the ring?"

In response, Kurt dragged a thin platinum chain from under his collar until it exposed the ring dangling at the end.

"You're wearing it?" Blaine babbled. Why was he wearing it? What did it mean? Was he still in love with him? Oh sweet Jesus, where was the exit? He couldn't have this conversation.

"For the love of… Get over yourself." Kurt correctly interpreted his panicky look. "It's just a reminder for me not to be so hasty next time."

"Oh!" Blaine forced a laugh. "That makes sense."

He'd hardly caught his breath before Kurt snatched up his bags and shoved them at him. "You need to bounce. Luke's here."

Blaine turned studying tall, dark and handsome who just walked in and was shrugging out of his coat. "Is that him?"

" _Go."_

He left. Only lingering to determine that it was indeed  _him,_ and by the shy flirty smile Kurt was tossing him, he was definitely interested. Was it selfish of him to pray to every single deity for him or her to bless that union for his own benefit? Probably.

ooOoo

Coming in from the cold, Blaine hang up his umbrella and coat, dropping his purchases in the hall closet. He found Sam in the kitchen surrounded by Holiday Gift Baskets, wrapping up the last one. It wasn't the first time his errands had spilled over into their home life. He didn't care. Any time they got to spend together was precious. Blaine watched him untie the gold ribbon his brow furrowed in concentration. It was cute how seriously he was taking it. "You're home." Blaine said softly as he walked towards him. It was such a stupid thing to love. The way Sam smiled when he heard his voice, right before he looked up.

"I am." Sam grinned. "The drunk baby that signs my checks hates the cold so he left for a couples only nude resort in Cancun." He rolled his eyes at the statement. "So…I'm all yours until after New Year's. Maybe longer. He took Ray with him and there's a very high chance they'll kill each other."

"They made up?" Seriously, Ray! Where was that man's self respect?

Sam shrugged. "I don't care anymore. I am staying out of it."

Blaine reached up and kissed him. Settling back on his feet, he elbowed the open brimming basket sending a ripe peach crashing to the floor. Stooping to pick it up, he asked, "It's the 21st, shouldn't you have had these delivered already?"

"I did." Sam explained. "These were gifts from Ro's clients. Since he was leaving, he said we could have them."

"You're kidding?" Blaine looked at the scattered baskets with new eyes. So many gourmet treats; chocolate, nuts, meats, coffee, honey, fruit… " _Moet!"_ He shrieked much to Sam's amusement."It's official I love him. I don't even care that he was probably wasted when he gave this stuff away."

"He was sober." Sam thought then corrected. "For him. The one shaped like a sleigh is full of that stinky cheese you like."

Blaine found it and clutched it to his chest. Oh Camembert! The rest would be more excited by the sheer volume of wine and bubbly gracing their kitchen but this was it for him. "Can you work there forever?"

Sam burst out laughing at his question. "Step away from the cheese. I uh – kinda got you something."

That got his attention. Blaine actually put the basket down. "What?"

"It's like a pre-present present."

 _Pre-present present?_ Blaine couldn't even come up with one good present and Sam already had three. "I thought we agreed on only one gift with a $50 limit?"

"I didn't break our deal. This cost basically nothing." Sam led him into the living room, pulled him down besides him on the couch and opened Tina's pink MacBook. "I'm just going to show it to you, okay?"

"Okay." Blaine echoed. Sam was tense, which was odd. He immediately popped up off the seat and started pacing behind him when the page started to load.

The first thing that crossed Blaine's mind was 'F**k, I'm never going to top this'. The second was, 'Is that how he sees me?' Placing the laptop on his knees, he tipped the screen back so he could see better. The black and white illustration of his face in profile etched in graphic pen was prominently displayed; the Roadhouse sign lay shadowy in the back, the date and time when he played scribbled just under it in pale gray. With the click of a button, he realized it was a fully functional Facebook page about him…as a musician. Son of a -

Impatient, Sam plopped back besides him. "You hate it." He said looking worried.

"No. I love it. Of course I lo - how long did this even take?" Blaine was completely blown away by the amount of work Sam had put into it. He clicked the gallery scrolling through extensive volume of photos from the last two shows he'd played. Photos he didn't remember being taken. "How did you get these?" He pointed one out.

"Tina."

She took so many photographs of them, that he'd stopped even noticing when she ditched her phone and upgraded to an actual camera. Sighing Blaine turned to him. "I love it but Sam I've only played twice and Bessie conked out halfway during the second show." To even call them shows was to oversell them. His audience was a bunch of sad drunks crying in their beer that occasionally looked up at him and made a request for something nostalgic that made them even sadder. He played mainly for himself, rediscovering how much he loved music, the performance more than the applause. The terrible audience did not once diminish his enjoyment. He was reluctant to give up the untouched paradise that he had all to himself. "I don't know if I'm ready."

"Come on babe, you rock!" Sam persuaded. "You are a legendary Warbler. You are so fucking amazing everybody needs to come watch you play. Don't be less than who you are. Please say yes because it's all set up. We already started to spread the word. I even talked to Sebastian – he's a dick I know - but he agreed to place a link on the Dalton website and drum up some support through the other Warblers that moved to New York."

A larger audience would be nice but it was Sam's belief in him that sold him on the idea. "Okay. Go nuts." Head tilted to the side, Blaine watched him celebrate. He wondered. "I hope you realize this won't make everybody like me again."

Sam turned towards him exuding concern. "That's not what this is about. I mean you said you were cool with the way everything went down, right?" His grimace was an unprecedented reminder of all the nasty things that had been said about Blaine by former friends. In a nutshell, news of their relationship had gotten out, shit had hit the fan. Sam and Kurt had come out smelling like roses but the consensus was that  _he_ was a bastard for cheating on Kurt twice. All the consequent lines that were drawn by Glee clubbers past and present were between those who liked Sam and those who liked Kurt, none of it had anything to do with him. Except for those few that had taken it upon themselves to 'advise' Sam to break up with him because he was some sort of serial cheater. It had been saddening and infuriating and he didn't even want to think about it anymore because he was in such a good place in his life.

Sam took his hands in his. "If they can't see how awesome you are then fuck 'em. We don't need them."

Surprisingly, Blaine was okayish – not quite alright but he was getting there. He focused on the most important thing that Sam still looked at him with such love in his eyes. Nothing and no one else's opinion counted for anything. "I'm okay." Some bridges you burn just as others opened up.  _There were other Warblers in New York._  Why hadn't he thought of that?

The doorbell rang and tabling his concern Sam went to answer the door. It was Artie with Lucy sheepishly explaining how he'd forgotten his key at their place. It was an inauspicious beginning to their Sunday movie night. Then Tina came home, her date showing soon after. You couldn't blame Blaine if his eyes lingered a little too long on his pants wondering what monstrosity lay beyond the ordinary khaki. An hour later, the bell rung again, this time Charlie with his date, he ushered him straight into the living room then reappeared besides them.

"He seems nice, right?" He whispered.

"Yeah. He does." Blaine answered as Sam stood besides him tearing into one of the baskets and putting the goodies away. "One question though, did he seem  _gay_  when you picked him up?"

"Yeah!" He answered with confidence.

Blaine hesitated. He didn't want to burst his bubble but Charlie was a romantic disaster. He frequently missed clues, ignored hints and was so dogged in his pursuit of love that he often fell for the wrong people. Blaine might not have been all the way sold on him but if he let him make a move on the straight guy who had no idea he was on a date with another man, they would end up on the news. So he merely pointed to where Lucy had bent over to talk to Artie and you could see clear down her top and how Charlie's date was positively drooling.

"Oh! Come on." Charlie moaned discouraged.

Sam laughed. "Dude, I have better gaydar than you do."

"Hey!" Limp with affront, the gladiator continued to watch his date unravel with such misery Blaine thought he might actually start to like him.

"Sorry dummy," Leaning over, Sam gave his friend a quick hug. "Beer?"

"Yup. All the beers and keep them coming."

Looking around, Blaine treasured this, the realisation that he was happy. Their house was full of family and friends. It was nice. Tina's date wouldn't last and straight guy would probably never make it back across their threshold but Sam was here so was Tina. Artie had Lucy on his lap. Kurt had talked to him. He was having an awesome day. Given how many 'friends' he'd recently lost, absolutely anybody that accepted him and Sam was welcome in their home. Okay seriously, Lucy and Artie were really going at it now, tongues and everything.

Sam draped over his back. "Please tell me we are not that gross."

"I was just thinking that."

"You are." Tina said, breezing past to retrieve two massive bowls and get the popcorn.

"We're grosser than the ridiculous amount of smacking that's coming out of that chair?" Blaine challenged.

Tina emptied the final kennels into the bowl. Then she looked at them smirked. "You know there's more than one fork in this house, right? And you can both have one. Each."

Blaine scowled at her and she got it. It was a gross habit but it was also a little on purpose. Sam was more likely to eat certain foods off Blaine's plate than serve them himself. He tricked his boyfriend into eating more. Sue him.

Tossing him a wink, she hefted both bowls. "Movie's starting." She called out. "Human Centipede 2."

"Christmas. We said pick a Christmas movie, Tina." Artie protested loudly. "Why do you insist on terrifying us into submission at every turn?"

"Okay. Fine, you only had to ask. God!" Digging through the stack of DVDs she discarded several then held up one." If I absolutely have to pick something else then uh - 'It's a wonderful life', coming right up."

Blaine loved that movie but it always made him sob like a freaking baby. Sam leaned over him his green eyes brightening, lips forming that teasing smile. "Should I bust out the tissues?"

"I'm not going to cry."  _Dammit!_  "Yes." He admitted weakly. "Get them."

They all piled onto the couch. It was a very tight squeeze. "We need a bigger boat." Sam yelled as he wedged in behind Blaine to make more room and Charlie and his not date took to the carpet.

The lights were down. George Bailey was offering to lasso the moon for Mary. With his back against his chest, Blaine could feel Sam's heart beat, occasionally feel his lips on his neck when he was bored, feel his arms loosely slung around his waist except for when they were reaching for popcorn or dangling an absurd amount of tissues in front of his face. Just this. The feel of him, the smell of him. The absolute knowledge of how much Sam loved him. Just this was everything.

**Author's Note:**

> The inspiration for this fic is from Ataris Whatever Lies Will Help You Rest and is loosely based on the song, very loosely. This chapter in particular;
> 
> Welcome to the after-taste
> 
> Of cheap wine and bad decisions
> 
> My heart trembles in this Morning Prayer
> 
> I can't turn my eyes
> 
> From this inner most seductions
> 
> But still somehow you found me there
> 
> And why don't we say what we really feel?


End file.
